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MY FRIEND THE PARTRIDGE 




S. T. HAMMOND. 



My Friend the Partridge 



Memories of New England Shooting 



BY S. T. HAMMOND 

("Shadow") 



NEW YORK 
FOREST AND STREAM PUBLISHING COMPANY 

1908 



'oV^^^^^ 



UBHARY of CONGRESS 
[wo Copies rtecbiv^! 

JUN 4 mn 

-TO ^ 3^7 



Copyright, 1908, by the 
Forest and Stream Publishing Company. 



CONTENTS. 

Chapter ^^^^ 

I.— The Charm of Upland Shooting.. i 

II. — The Ruffed Grouse 7 

III.— Local Names I3 

IV.— Tricks and Subterfuges 20 

v.— Shooting Grouse From Trees 3^ 

VI.— The ''Crazy Season." 4^ 

VII.— Partridge Foods 49 

VIIL— Enemies of the Partridge 54 

IX.— Birds That Fight 61 

X. — Drumming "" 

XL— Mating and Nesting 72 

XIL— Snaring in Early Days 79 

XIIL— Advent of the Gun -91 

XIV.— Myths Disproved 100 

XV.— Autumn Habits io7 

XIV.— Strange Shots ii3 

XVIL— Humorous Incidents 123 

XVIIL— Shooting Coincidences 129 

XIX.— A Cat and a Woodcock • . 138 

XX.— Lost Opportunities I45 



EDITOR'S FOREWORD. 

Stephen Tillinghast Hammond may fairly be called 
the Nestor of American sportsmen. This does not mean 
that he is the oldest of these, but that in our belief he 
has had more experience in wing shooting than any other 
man in the country; that is, he has devoted more years 
to it, and more time each year, than any one of whom 
we know. He is one of the most expert of expert wing 
shots. 

Mr. Hammond was born in Webster, Mass., Dec. 21, 
1831. A year or two later his family moved to Dudley, 
Mass., and when he was a little more than nine years 
old, moved again to Pomfret Landing, Conn. It was in 
Pomfret that he killed his first partridge, caught in a 
snare, in 1842, when he was eleven years old. Since then 
he has hunted them every season, more or less, but 
usually more. 

In 1853 or 1854 he went to Davenport, Iowa, leaving 
his home the day after Thanksgiving, and reaching it 
again the day before Thanksgiving in the following year. 
He went out West— for then Iowa was the West— in 
order to shoot, and during his stay he had experience 
with nearly every sort of game found in that section; from 
deer to cottontail, from wild turkey to quail, from swan 
to butterball, and from sandhill crane to jacksnipe; in 
fact, here he enjoyed more and better shooting than ever 



EDITOR S FOREWORD. 

he had heard or dreamed of. He has shot many seasons 
in the South, especially at quail and wild turkey. 

In 1861 Mr. Hammond was married. He has had eight 
children, of whom four are living. For many years he 
was a successful business man, but too heavy investment 
in real estate carried him down in the year 1878, 

In 1881 he became the kennel editor of Forest and 
Stream, a position which he occupied for ten years. He 
was an acknowledged authority on field trial and bench 
show competition, and was a regular attendant at all 
such great events in this country in the years while he 
was kennel editor. 

He is the author of several books that have had a 
wide popularity among sportsmen. These are "Training 
vs. Breaking," "Hitting vs. Missing," and "Nursing vs. 
Dosing," as applied to dogs. These volumes are not 
only charming in style, but have proved most useful to 
the younger generation of sportsmen. 

Of late years Mr. Hammond has resided in Springfield, 
where he has worked in the United States Armory. Two 
years ago, while at work, he fell from a bench and 
smashed his ankle so badly that he will be a cripple for 
life, but he hunts partridge just the same. 

George Bird Grinnell. 
New York City, March, 1908. 



My Friend the Partridge. 



CHAPTER I. 
THE CHARM OF UPLAND SHOOTING. 

There is a charm in the pursuit of New 
England upland game that appeals to the heart 
of the sportsman, that fills his soul with a 
sweet content and delight that seldom comes to 
him in other, even the best, game sections of this 
broad land. Faith in this statement permeates 
my whole being; corroborative evidence in 
abundance can be readily obtained from many 
hundreds of sportsmen who are quaHfied by a 
large and varied experience in different locali- 
ties to give expert testimony as to its truth. 

In the silent watches of the night, while 
camping out on the broad Iowa prairies with my 
com.panion and three strangers who had joined 
us at sunset, I answered, in response to the ques- 
tion as to how I liked Western shooting, that 
I 



MY FRIEND THE PARTRIDGE. 

one day among the forest-crowned hills of dear 
New England was worth weeks on the treeless 
plain. One of the strangers grasped my hand 
with a grip that made my fingers tingle, another 
threw his arms around me with a fervent, "God 
bless you," while the third gave by far the most 
flattering and impressive indorsement of the 
opinion I had expressed by hastily drawing his 
hand across his eyes as he arose, and with bowed 
head walked away. I afterward learned that this 
man was born among the Berkshire hills in old 
Massachusetts, where he had spent many happy 
days in pursuit of his favorite sport, and it was 
his description of the wondrous beauty of the 
locality that led me a few years later to one of 
the fairest sections of country for the sports- 
man that I have ever seen. When I gazed upon 
his former home surrounded by the everlasting 
hills, and feasted my eyes upon the beauties of 
nature in its rugged wildness here displayed, I 
could not doubt that the well-springs of his heart 
were stirred to their utmost depths when on the 
bleak and desolate prairie he heard from stranger 
lips ardent words of praise for the old home of 
his youth so fondly loved. 

2 



THE CHARM OF UPLAND SHOOTING. 

I was once in the dense canebrakes of Missis- 
sippi in search of the elusive turkey, with a 
genuine swamp angel for a guide. When our 
barren hunt was over I changed my shells, and 
by quick work succeeded in bringing down sev- 
eral woodcock. The "angel" rolled up his eyes 
at me and queried, "Is you a Yank?" Telling him 
in the words of the immortal Whittier that *T 
gloried in the name," he exclaimed, "Dat's 
right, boss; dat's right. Jess like de one was 
here lass week. We done killed seben turks on 
dat sandbar when he tole me dat de shootin' up 
norf was a heap better dan down here, and dat 
dere was right smart more fun in de pattige dan 
dere was in de turk." Thinking that perhaps he 
did not quite understand why this should be so, 
I made everything as plain as possible by ex- 
plaining that the "pattige," as he called it, was 
not only a gallinaceous bird, but a herbivorous 
and gramnivorous one as well, and that its pro- 
pulsive power was such that at times its momen- 
tum was phenomenal. I was intending to give 
him more of the life history of the bird, but the 
manner in which he received my remarks led 
me to stop speaking, for the way that counte- 
3 



MY FRIEND THE PARTRIDGE. 

nance worked, and the whites of those eyes 
dilated as the long words fell upon his ear was 
a study for an artist. When I stopped he looked 
up to me with an expression that plainly showed 
me that he was now convinced, and ejaculated, 
"Well, boss, I speck dat Yank was 'bout right, 
and I reckon you 'uns must think a heap of dose 
pattige." 

The love of that "Yank" for the sport to be 
found in the home of his childhood, gave me a 
sympathetic feeling of brotherhood with the un- 
known stranger, and as I meandered through the 
tangled canebrake, thoughts of glorious days with 
the "pattige" among the forest-crowned hills of 
beloved New England came to cheer me, and 
soon the poignant feeling of regret that I had 
not held a trifle further ahead on that big gobbler 
mellowed down into a fading and rather pleasant 
remembrance of the great black living picture 
that had so swiftly crossed my path. 

This love for the shooting in New England 
is not merely love for the sport in itself, but is 
a far deeper, holier feeling than ever comes to 
him whose joy in the life of the field is inspired 
by success. A profound appreciation of the beau- 
4 



THE CHARM OF UPLAND SHOOTING. 

tiful in nature, for the grandeur of our ever-new, 
ever-changing panorama of hill and mountain, of 
sequestered nook and lovely dell, of laughing 
brook and bubbling spring, of whispering pine 
and stately oak, of balmy air and deep blue sky, 
creates and fosters this love until it permeates 
the whole being. 

There is an endless diversity of happenings, as 
well as surroundings, when in pursuit of our 
game birds that adds much to our enjoyment 
when summing up the pleasures of the day. In 
many sections different varieties of game are to 
be found in the same coverts, and there is often 
a glorious and deeply interesting uncertainty as 
to just what bird it is that is crouching before 
your dog. The "partridge crank" grips his gun 
with firmer clasp as he walks in to flush the 
bird, fondly hoping to hear the thunderous roar 
of the swiftly beating pinions of his favorite. 
The man who best loves the royal woodcock ad- 
vances with eager step, dreaming of the weird 
music of that querulous whistle and the gentle 
swish of the silken wings so pleasing to his ear, 
while he whose choice is the gamy quail, with 
satisfied smile is reveling in thoughts of the 
5 



MY FRIEND THE PARTRIDGE. 

tumultuous rush and roar of the startled bevy, 
and by faith he sees the air thickly dotted 
with the flashing forms of the little bird he loves 
so well. Who shall say that this* glorious uncer- 
tainty is not almost the best of the whole? 
Surely not I, for I have enjoyed these pleasing 
sensations too many times to deny their power. 
I have a choice as to the bird I would flush, for 
my first favorite is that best of all game birds, 
the ruffed grouse; but I so love them all that 
I am cheerfully content with what the gods pro- 
vide, and am truly happy when either of the 
beautiful trio blesses me with its presence, and 
I spend no time in vain regret for a bygone "it 
might have been." Scores of times have mine 
eyes been gladdened and my pulses quickened by 
simultaneous rises of two of these varieties, and 
fond recollections of many a glorious double of 
this nature often come back to me when in over- 
hauling memory's storehouse I find myself again 
threading the leafy aisles of some favorite cover 
of the good old days. On several occasions I 
have flushed all three of these birds from one 
point, and with the assistance of a companion 
have gathered them all in. 
6 



CHAPTER 11. 
THE RUFFED GROUSE. 

The rufifed grouse in New England, commonly 
called partridge, is the very best game bird that 
inhabits this continent. I say this advisedly, and 
without fear of contradiction from any sports- 
man who has hunted them enough to become 
fairly well acquainted with their habits and is 
at all expert in their capture. Many writers in- 
sist that this royal bird is a very unsatisfactory 
one to pursue for sport, and they have written 
columns in its vilification and are unsparing in 
epithets, condemning some of its characteristic 
habits. All of which goes to prove conclusively 
that these same writers have scant knowledge 
of the subject upon which they have wasted so 
much valuable ink. 

I have many times been greatly amused to wit- 
7 



MY FRIEND THE PARTRIDGE. 

ness the sudden change in the opinion of one of 
these outspoken gentlemen when given oppor- 
tunity to participate in the pleasure that comes 
to those only who dearly love the fascinating 
sport, and have learned by a large experience, 
some at least of the many interesting traits and 
habits that are a part of the life of this truly 
royal inhabitant of the forests that crown with 
glory our beautiful hills and mountains. A brief 
period with the expert grouse hunter in the 
haunts of his favorite bird will nearly always 
prove to the cynic or tyro that there is a hitherto 
undreamed of wealth of sport and pleasure in 
the pursuit of this splendid bird; and if he is 
possessed of true sportsmanlike instinct and has 
patience to persevere, his reward is sure, and 
regal sport awaits his pleasure. 

The late Hon. George Ashmun — than whom 
more finished gentleman or truer sportsman never 
went afield — was not in his earlier days a lover 
of the partridge in the way of sport. He was 
often the shooting companion of the immortal 
Webster, and the only criticism of the great 
statesman that I ever heard him utter was that 
he loved the partridge "not wisely, but too well." 
8 



THE RUFFED GROUSE. 

My first two shooting expeditions with Mr. Ash- 
mun were devoted to the woodcock covers, and 
no attempt was made to search for grouse. Of 
course we took an occasional shot at them when 
we found them — intruding, he called it — on the 
woodcock grounds; but his distaste for follow- 
ing them was so pronounced that I rather re- 
luctantly suppressed my inclinations and devoted 
my time to his favorite bird, the woodcock. The 
third time we were out together we visited the 
quaint old town of Holland in the southern por- 
tion of the old Bay State, a town that can boast 
more ragged rocks and rugged hills to the square 
acre than any town I know that holds or rather 
did hold so many birds. 

On this occasion we very fortunately found 
one of his favorite woodcock covers without a 
single longbill, but we did find a noble covey 
of grouse that flushed wild and settled in some 
small detached patches of dense cover that looked 
most promising. With the most serious expres- 
sion of countenance and voice that I could assume 
I launched torrents of abuse at the intruding 
grouse for usurping the ground that was the 
birthright of the woodcock. Then as the next 




MY FRIEND THE PARTRIDGE. 

friend of the evicted innocents, I appealed to 
my companion, as a lawyer, for advice as to the 
proper course to pursue. With a merry twinkle in 
his eye and a broad smile upon his countenance 
he took a firmer grasp of his gun, and in a melo- 
dramatic tone exclaimed, "Fiat justitia mat 
coclum." Then we went for those intruders, and 
for more than two hours we reveled in the en- 
joyment of such sport as only comes to the elect 
when, with congenial companion, "the best dog 
in the world," beautiful surroundings, plenty of 
birds and straight powder, he adds one more 
priceless gem to the store of memories that shall 
come back to cheer and bless his joyless hours 
when shooting days are over. 

Mr. Ashmun — as he afterward acknowledged — 
proposed going for the birds more to please me 
than with any thought of sport. He well knew 
that the royal bird had the warmest corner in 
my heart, and that every nerve in my frame was 
still vibrating with responsive echo of the music 
of the quickly beating pinions. I plainly saw that 
his countenance lacked the animated expression 
that illuminated it when following his favorite 
bird, and it was with unbounded pleasure and 

10 



THE RUFFED GROUSE. 

satisfaction that I noted the gradual change in 
his features as the sport became more and more 
exciting, until even the "woodcock expression" 
was intensified and glorified, and I did not need 
the assurance he gave to know that he too had 
become a "partridge crank." Mr. Ashmun never 
forsook his first love, the woodcock, but ever 
after this he had a good word for the bird he 
had so often condemned, and was always ready 
to try conclusions with them. 

I could record scores of similar instances, for 
I have very many times had the pleasure of wit- 
nessing just such change of heart; but perhaps 
I have said enough to illustrate the point I 
wished to make relative to the great love for 
the sport of grouse shooting that comes to those 
who have opportunity to enjoy the pleasure that 
attends successful pursuit of this wise and wary 
will-o'-the-wisp of the tangled thicket. 

The life history of the ruffed grouse has 
never been written. Many deeply interesting 
sketches of portions of it have from time to 
time been placed before us, but never a compre- 
hensive and truthful description of the going and 
coming, the likes and dislikes, the resultant ef- 
II 



MY FRIEND THE PARTRIDGE. 

fects of unnatural conditions as well as a thou- 
sand and one other items of interest that all be- 
long to the daily life of this preternaturally wise 
and most interesting bird. 

Many years ago I took no little pride in the 
belief that I knew about all that was worth know- 
ing in relation to this bird, but as the years rolled 
on I learned — and enjoyed pleasure in the learn- 
ing — that my boasted knowledge was in truth 
insignificant; and the more I learned of the 
habits and characteristics of my wily favorite, 
the less inclined was I to make a fool of myself 
by pretension to knowledge that I knew was far 
removed from perfection. Each season for more 
than a half century I haye devoted considerable 
time to the pursuit of my favorite bird, and I 
believe myself to be fairly proficient in their cap- 
ture; but even now, with all my experience, they 
often get the best of me by playing me some new 
dodge or trick, and so well do I know them that 
I feel sure that no matter how proficient I may 
become, their wits, sharpened by experience, will 
often cause me sorrow as I realize that I have 
again been outwitted. 



12 



CHAPTER III. 
LOCAL NAMES. 

This magnificent game bird was known to the 
scientist of early days as Tetrao umbellus. The 
well known naturalist, Bonaparte, interpolated 
the subgeneric term Bonasa, making the scientific 
name Tetrao (Bonasa) umbellus. Scientists of 
later days, Nuttall, Samuels and many others, 
dropped Tetrao, and a few years ago the Ameri- 
can Ornithologists' Union put the seal of ap- 
proval upon this and now our beautiful friend is 
known to the scientific world as Bonasa umbellus. 
Many that make no pretension to scientific knowl- 
edge know it as the ruflfed grouse. Nearly every 
one in New England, as well as in portions of 
the Middle and Western States, calls it the par- 
tridge, while to others in some of the Middle 
and Southern States it is known as the pheasant, 
13 



MY FRIEND THE PARTRIDGE. 

and in some portions of those sections as moun- 
tain pheasants. In northern portions of the 
country, where the spruce partridge is found, 
our bird is called the birch partridge. In New 
Jersey I have had it pointed out to me as the 
heathcock, and several times in widely separated 
sections I have been told that it was the tippet 
grouse. I was hunting turkeys in Virginia, hav- 
ing as a guide a veritable "child of the mist," 
who lived in a lone cabin in the mountains some 
two miles from Ashby's Gap. While walking 
along a bridle path a grouse rose nearby and I 
cut it down, when the old darkey made a rush 
and seized the bird, which he held aloft in triumph 
as he exclaimed, "Fore de lawd, boss, if you 
hain't done killed a ghost bird." This was the 
first time that I heard this name applied to it, 
but I have since learned that in some localities 
the name is quite commonly used. I have also 
frequently heard it called the drummer as well 
as the thunder bird. I have also often heard the 
name brown grouse, and have been told several 
times in different localities that this was the 
shoulder-knot partridge. 
A wise sportsman has told us that "a rose by 

14 



LOCAL NAMES. 

any other name would smell as sweet," so I 
shall find no fault with either of these names, 
nor shall I quarrel with the sponsor for bestow- 
ing them, for I have enjoyed too much of sport 
in all of the sections where these cognomens 
prevail to cavil at trifles like these. I must, how- 
ever, draw the line at "ruffled" grouse. I cannot 
stand this misnomer, nor extend the hand of 
fellowship to the man who bestows it upon my 
very best bird. 

The naturalist Trumbull quotes from an old 
author who was writing of the partridge : "Their 
flesh is good in hectic fevers, the gall sharpens 
the sight, and the blood resists poison." True 
for you, brother sportsman ; every word is gospel 
truth, for oftentimes when the "hectic fever" 
born of ardent longing for communion with my 
dearly loved bird in its sylvan home has held 
me in its grasp, I have been quickly and com- 
pletely brought to my normal condition by even 
only a fleeting glimpse of my favorite bird in 
the flesh. Often has the gall engendered by 
failure to catch a glimpse of a startled bird "sharp- 
ened" my sight and brought me into better con- 
dition to see the next one through the dense 
15 



MY FRIEND THE PARTRIDGE. 

covert. Often has the poison instilled into my 
mind by contamination with worldly affairs been 
completely neutralized and driven from my sys- 
tem at the sight of the blood of this beautiful 
king of the forest. 

I shall not undertake to give anything ap- 
proaching a complete description of the charac- 
teristics belonging to this bird, nor even of its 
habits, natural or acquired, for I well know that 
I have yet much to learn regarding its life his- 
tory, and I shall therefore confine myself strictly 
to such facts as have come under my own ob- 
servation during the many pleasant interviews I 
have held with these magnificent birds in different 
sections of the country, leaving all guess work 
and pedantic abstruseness for other subjects with 
which I am less familiar. 

Nearly all writers about the ruffed grouse 
persist in pronouncing it the very wildest bird 
to be found in our country. This has been the 
almost universal view expressed for many years, 
and so much has it been harped on that "wild 
as a partridge" has passed into a proverb. That 
the bird is wild, so far as living in a state of 
nature is concerned, is patent to all; but to say 
r6 



LOCAL NAMES. 

that it is wild in the sense that most writers be- 
lieve and endeavor to demonstrate, is to mis- 
represent this highly gifted bird. There is no 
game bird which possesses greater perceptive 
faculties and reasoning powers than this; and for 
one to state that the wisdom, born of bitter ex- 
perience, that leads it to shun one's presence, is 
simply wildness, argues little for the quality of 
the knowledge so characteristic of this preter- 
naturally wise and crafty bird. When time was 
young— with me— I have, hundreds of times, 
flushed from almost under my feet large coveys 
of partridges, and many times I have seen them, 
not twenty feet distant, skulking away from my 
path with never a "wild" one in the lot. In re- 
cent years, I have seen many instances of the 
same nature in our grand old Northern forests, 
where the modern shooter is comparatively un- 
known. This conclusively proves to me that the 
ruflfed grouse is not naturally wild in the sense 
that so many writers and talkers would have us 
believe, while the abundant reasons— from their 
standpoint— that this wise bird gives them for 
their belief, just as conclusively proves that it 
has risen to the occasion and learned the truth 
17 



MY FRIEND THE PARTRIDGE. 

and value of that modern axiom so vital to suc- 
cess that ''only he who hustles will get there." 
The manner in which this knowledge has be- 
come so widely diffused among the partridges 
passes my comprehension. I can readily un- 
derstand why it is that a bird that is constantly 
hunted and shot at should in a short time be- 
come wary when it had reason to believe that 
deadly foes were seeking its destruction, but I 
cannot understand how it is that young and 
presumably unsophisticated birds, that have 
never been previously disturbed by the hunter, 
should vie with the "oldest" patriarch in the 
knowledge of ways and means to outwit even 
the most expert hunter. I know absolutely 
nothing that will shed any light upon this ques- 
tion, and shall therefore leave the matter for 
others to determine, whether this is an instinct 
or acquired knowledge, or whether there is a 
bird language by which the callow brood is 
taught the principles of cause and effect that 
generally obtain when the hunter is abroad in 
the land, as well as the crafty tricks and dodges 
that so often succeed in convincing the would- 
be captor that his intended victim is too "wild" 
i8 



LOCAL NAMES. 

for him. Year by year, I have watched, with 
ever-increasing interest and deHght, the con- 
stant and truly wonderful increase of wisdom 
that comes to even the youngest and most iso- 
lated of these birds, and as I realize the signifi- 
cance of this important change in the habits 
and instincts — if I may be allowed the expres- 
sion — of my favorites, there is, deep down in my 
heart, a feeling of profound joy and satisfaction 
in knowing that in spite of modern methods and 
countless hordes of modern shooters, this 
sovereign of stately wood and sylvan dell still 
lives and gives fair promise to bless future gen- 
erations with untold wealth of most fascinating 
sport. 



19 



CHAPTER IV. 
TRICKS AND SUBTERFUGES. 

I HAVE always taken great delight in witness- 
ing the many tricks and subterfuges to which 
this crafty bird resorts to escape the hunter, 
and it is well that I do; for very many times 
this is all that I have had left to console me for 
the defeat of well laid plans and the coming to 
naught of long and weary tramps. 

Early in the season of the year 1905, while out 
shooting, I met a farmer friend who told me of 
a large covey of grouse on the summit of quite 
a steep hill near by, and I at once started in 
pursuit of them. When I gained the summit, I 
found myself in an open pasture liberally 
sprinkled with patches of blackberry briars, with 
a promising looking alder cover on the op- 
posite side. The dog struck scent within a few 
20 



TRICKS AND SUBTERFUGES. 

rods of the edge and soon had them fast; but as 
I started to go to him a large covey of grouse 
rose out of shot, and, flying across the pasture, 
settled in the alder cover. When I arrived there 
I found the cover to consist of clumps of young 
alder sprouts not more than four feet high with 
zig-zag paths between the clumps, from two to 
four feet wide. Congratulating myself upon the 
soft snap I had in such a spot, I sent on the 
dog and he soon pinned one. As I walked up 
to him, I well remember that there was a feel- 
ing in my heart of commiseration for the poor 
birds, for it was impossible for them to escape 
from such a place. But when I forced a rise, 
this feeling vanished as by magic, for I never 
saw the "poor" bird, although it rose within 
ten feet of me, for it twisted along those zig- 
zag paths and never showed itself until out of 
shot. 

This performance was something entirely 
new to me, and it gave me quite a turn, but the 
trick was so neatly done that admiration for the 
wisdom of the performer soon dispelled my 
grief, although I did feel rather foolish about 
my sentiments of pity for the poor unprotected 

21 



MY FRIEND THE PARTRIDGE. 

bird when I heard them rising all around me 
with never one of them showing so much as a 
single feather until at a safe distance. Every 
one of the covey cut that same caper, and the 
last I saw of them, they were far away, amid the 
sheltering arms of a dense grove of pines. 
When the first one sprang this low down trick 
on me, I believed it to be the old hen bird with 
wit and wisdom sufficient for the present oc- 
casion at least, but when the entire family re- 
peated the performance, I regretfully came to 
the conclusion that there was something radically 
wrong in the educational system that I had so 
long and ardently pursued; or that I had sadly 
neglected my opportunities, to get so badly left 
in an encounter with these young and unso- 
phisticated dwellers in the wildwood whose 
habits and traits I had spent a lifetime in 
studying. I was deeply interested in the future 
of these birds, and in order that they should not 
deteriorate or become careless from lack of op- 
portunity to keep their wits sharpened, I gave 
the snap away to three or four friends, and 
from all I could gather in relation to the mat- 
ter, I judged that there were quite exciting 

22 



TRICKS AND SUBTERFUGES. 

times upon that hilltop for many days; but I 
failed to learn that the gallant band lost more 
than two or three of their number during the 
whole season. 

Next October, I shall again climb that steep 
hill, and again pit my skill against their cunning, 
and, my word for it, there will be no pity in 
my heart when I get among them. I shall not 
again return with empty pockets, for I intend 
reading up all that I can find in relation to their 
habits. Surely I shall find something that will 
give me a pointer as to the proper course to 
pursue in order to circumvent these up-to-date 
and very fly dwellers on that beautiful hilltop 

Within the limits of this goodly city, and not 
more than two miles from where I am now 
sitting, there is an extensive tract of forest and 
swamp with several little outlying alder runs, 
that was a famous place for birds some years 
ago. Even now, one can occasionally enjoy a 
little sport there. The queen of that section of 
country is a famous old hen partridge. She has 
lived in that vicinity and reared her family each 
season for several years. This veritable ghost 
bird has seen enough powder burned to an- 
23 



MY FRIEND THE PARTRIDGE. 

nihilate her race, and heard profanity enough to 
put to shame "our army in Flanders." Tricks and 
subterfuges without number are part and parcel 
of her daily life throughout each open season. 
Strong of wing and ever watchful, she is up and 
away before danger approaches within harmful 
distance, and so long and deviously uncertain is 
her flight that it is rare for one to find her the 
second time. I once saw her rise two gun shots 
away, and fiy straight as an arrow for a favorite 
cover, approaching it with every indication of 
alighting, even to lowering near the ground and 
setting her wings; but just as she was near the 
edge she swerved sharply to the right and with 
the seeming vigor of a newly started bird she 
laid her course in the direction of another cover. 
My companion joined me a few minutes later 
when I explained matters to him and assured 
him that this was the turning point in this bird's 
career, for we now had her down fine where 
she could not escape. With mutual congratula- 
tions upon our good fortune in getting on to 
this well planned dodge, we complacently 
wended our way to the cover with never a 
doubt that at last, after so many inglorious 
24 



TRICKS AND SUBTERFUGES. 

failures, the long sought prize was ours. Arriv- 
ing at the run that I had seen the bird making 
for, I sent my companion around to the point 
where she would be forced to pass, and, order- 
ing on the dog, I followed along the edge of the 
run, feeling perfectly sure that there was no 
escape for our very uncertain friend. But when 
we came to the upper end and the dog had 
carefully worked out every foot of the cover we 
found, upon comparing notes, that we did not 
feel quite so sure of the result, for she most 
certainly was not there. 

There was a patch of birch cover a short 
distance further on, and we decided that she 
had taken refuge there. We proceeded to in- 
vest the stronghold by deploying to the right 
and left. My companion was to take position 
at the far corner while I entered the cover at 
the opposite end. We started for our respective 
posts. Some thirty yards away and right in my 
course was a patch of hazel, about the size of a 
hogshead which I passed so near that some of 
the branches brushed me, but it was not until I 
was twenty steps beyond it that I gave it a 
thought and then I had no time for much de- 
25 



MY FRIEND THE PARTRIDGE. 

liberation, for out from the clump came the roar 
of the quickly beating pinions of a startled 
grouse. It took me only the fractional part 
of a second to right about face and present 
arms, but there was not a feather in sight. In- 
tuitively I realized that this ghost bird was 
flitting away, out of sight, under the protecting 
cover of that bunch of hazel. Instinctively I 
cut loose at the center of it. At the crack of 
the gun my companion gave a cheer that filled 
my heart with unalloyed pleasure, for I well 
knew that the escape of our long sought quarry 
could never inspire a shout like that. When he 
joined me, my dog was delivering the bird into 
my hand. As I looked at it, I cut short my 
friend's exordium upon the wildest, most crafty, 
exasperating of birds by telling him that this 
was not the bird he was holding an inquest 
upon, but only just an ordinary young bird that 
had made an ocdinary mistake in leaving its 
stronghold at least an hour before the one we 
had been searching for would have stirred. 

The only item of interest to add to this tale 
is that our crafty friend still lives, for we did 
not get even a glimpse of her. 
26 



TRICKS AND SUBTERFUGES. 

There is one rather neat as well as very ex- 
asperating trick that appears to be quite gen- 
erally understood and practiced by these birds, 
for I have often been its victim in sections so 
widely distant that there is no reason to doubt 
that the whole family are up to it. The trick is 
simple and at the same time very effective. It 
is performed by the bird placing a tree, bush, or 
other obstruction between the shooter and it- 
self within the first few yards of its flight. I 
have often had occasion to grieve over this 
crooked work of my pets, and have often specu- 
lated upon the primal source of the knowledge 
of this dodge that appears to be so universally 
employed by fledgelings as well as patriarchs; 
but notwithstanding much deep study and earn- 
est thought, no solution of the problem that 
seems satisfactory to me has yet materialized. 
I am still in doubt whether reason, natural in- 
stinct, general or special education, or some- 
thing else of which I know nothing, is the 
source of this knowledge. 

In the good old days when abundant sport 
was the sure reward of a day with the partridge, 
it was my delight to strike the trail of a wary 
27 



MY FRIEND THE PARTRIDGE. 

bird that sought to make its escape by the use 
of its legs. I was sometimes able to defeat this 
device, for all I had to do to secure a rise with- 
in proper distance was to give a casual glance 
at the line of the country followed by the bird 
and take note of any opening, such as a cart- 
path or vacant place in the undergrowth that 
crossed the bird's course. Then I would leave 
the dog to follow the trail, and advance to the 
opening, where I often obtained a rise within 
shot, or, if the bird had crossed before my 
arrival the same tactics were pursued at the 
successive openings until the end. These lovers 
of the deep-tangled wildwood and dense under- 
growth, very much dislike to leave the shelter 
of the thick covert to cross an open place when 
deadly foes are on their trail, and it is their 
usual habit to tarry at the edge, and this often 
leads to their destruction. Within the past few 
years, however, this has changed, and all the 
dearly bought acuteness and hardly earned 
knowledge that were once my joy and pride are 
now as naught, for scarcely one in ten of these 
up-to-date birds will allow any stratagem of 
this nature to be played on them. They just 
28 



TRICKS AND SUBTERFUGES. 

go around the openings, or take flight before 
they come to them, thus giving one more proof 
that the god of reason, instinct, education or 
whatever it is that protects them has these beau- 
tiful birds in his careful keeping. We can 
readily believe that in the future, as in the past, 
these wise and wary ones will rise to the oc- 
casion and will long survive to adorn our forests 
and make glad the hearts of coming generations 
of sportsmen. 

There is one device that is occasionally re- 
sorted to by these birds that is the same to-day 
as in the olden time, for the reason, I presume, 
that it is so uniformily successful that there is 
no reason for abandoning it. This trick is done 
by doubling on its trail; for the trail your dog 
is so persistently following leads straight on, and 
while one is meditatively calculating the chances 
in front, the bird has swung around the circle. 
One fondly expects to see it rise from an in- 
viting looking spot just ahead. Suddenly, with 
a thundrous racket, it bursts into the air just 
behind the pursuer. Shoot! of course you shoot, 
and then kick the dog; for this appears to be the 
orthodox wind up of such a failure and is about 
29 



MY FRIEND THE PARTRIDGE. 

the only satisfaction you can get out of the affair 
unless, like me, you have become so accustomed 
to the maneuver that you just give a short 
whistle of surprise and upon the whole rather 
enjoy the performance. One is not more than 
half sorry that the brave bird was successful in 
the bold artistic strategy that well deserved the 
victory so fairly won. 

It is not always thus, however, for I have had 
a large experience in this line and have so 
schooled my nerves, that when this dodge is 
sprung on me, it often chances that the old 
gun jumps to the proper position, the trigger is 
pulled at the proper time, and as the wily 
trickster doubles up in air, there is a pride and 
joy in my heart that, I am free to confess, is 
somewhat more satisfactory than is the afore- 
said enjoyment when the honors count on the 
other side. 



30 



CHAPTER V. 
SHOOTING GROUSE FROM TREES. 

Partridges often seek to escape the hunter 
by taking shelter in the branches of trees. I 
have read cokimns of choice rhetoric and argu- 
ment against the practice of shooting them 
when thus found, unless they are first routed 
from their perch and given a chance for their 
life. 1 deeply regret that I have never had op- 
portunity to take note of the behavior of one 
of these exponents of fair play, when under fire, 
and of course cannot say whether the feeling 
that prompts the rhetoric is born of an inherent 
love for the beauty of the principles involved in 
the question as expounded by them and is so 
well grounded that it would stand the test of 
actual contact with that most alluring tempta- 
tion that so forcibly appeals to the grosser feel- 
31 



MY FRIEND THE PARTRIDGE. 

ings of our nature when the eager eye catches 
a glimpse of that living picture, immovable as 
a statue, perched within fair gunshot on yonder 
branch. For the sake of all that is pure and 
good in the make-up of poor, weak mortality, I 
most sincerely hope and trust that the culmina- 
tion of such an episode will bring added strength 
to the heaven-born feeling, as well as added days 
for our beautiful friend in the treetop. 

I have been afield with hundreds of sports- 
men, but have yet to meet the one who can 
resist the temptation to shoot a grouse sit- 
ting in a tree. Even I myself must confess 
that more than once the sight of that living 
picture has tempted me with a force that I 
was unable to resist. Not many times, how- 
ever — perhaps a dozen all told — have I com- 
mitted this sin — if sin it be — for there are several 
very excellent reasons why my victims in this 
line have been few. First, it is extremely diffi- 
cult to locate even so large a bird as this, though 
it may be sitting in plain view, with not a leaf 
or twig to hide its form; for it is a wise pro- 
vision of nature that all wild game appears to 
have the miraculous power of becoming invisible 
32 




RUFFED GROUSE FOUR MONTHS OLD. 



SHOOTING GROUSE FROM TREES. 

to mortal eyes, even when in plain view. In ad- 
dition to this, the partridge appears to know that 
it is perfectly safe so long as you do not see it, 
and it keeps a wary watch upon your movements, 
taking instant flight when it suspects that your 
eye has discovered its hiding place. So abrupt 
and often devious is the departure of the phan- 
tom, that the most expert shot, who is new to 
this business, is rarely successful in making proper 
connection. It has been a rule with me to shoot 
when such conditions obtain, and shoot very 
quickly, and many times have I got on to the un- 
known angle, greatly to my satisfaction and much 
to the wonder of my companions. 

There is still another accomplishment that this 
bird has recently learned that is well worthy of 
record. I have obtained within the past four 
years abundant proof that our preternaturally 
wise and wary friend has discovered that the dog 
whistle means trouble, and to avoid this he at 
once takes flight as soon as the piercing sound 
reaches his ear, leaving the discomfited hunter to 
wonder why the dog can make nothing of the 
apparently fresh scent. I had suspected some- 
thing of this, but did not give the matter much 
33 



MY FRIEND THE PARTRIDGE. 

thought until one day, when I was working out 
open country for quail, I came within some two 
hundred yards of a favorite grouse cover and 
decided to investigate it. 

Blowing the whistle for the dog, I turned 
toward the cover just in time to see a noble cock 
bird burst from the center of it and make a long 
flight to a patch of alders. The conduct awak- 
ened my slumbering suspicions that the whistle 
was to blame in such cases, and as the ground 
was favorable, I determined to investigate the 
matter further. Crossing to a knoll about two 
hundred yards from his place of refuge, I again 
blew the whistle, and was not greatly surprised 
to see this wary bird again take wing and make 
for a dense thicket four or five hundred yards 
away. Now I had had lots of trouble in that 
place, and in order to prevent the bird from 
causing me grief in the tangled thicket, I went 
around to the edge some distance above the bird, 
when I gave him another call with the whistle, to 
which he instantly responded, and greatly to my 
satisfaction flew straight across the open to the 
far point of a birch knoll. This knoll was about 
forty yards in width at the end nearest me, run- 
34 



SHOOTING GROUSE FROM TREES. 

ning some hundred yards and tapering gradually 
to the point. There was no cover for half a mile 
beyond the point, and the bird must take a course 
along the birch thicket to reach any cover, so I 
took up a position at the end of the knoll near 
the center, and gave him the whistle for the last 
time. To prove my suspicion to be well founded, 
he again rose, and it was with deep satisfaction 
that I saw him coming my way, and in a few 
seconds I was smoothing out his ruffled plum- 
age and telling him in the most impressive lan- 
guage that I could muster that he would rise to 
the whistle never more this side of the happy 
hunting ground. There are so many different 
tricks and dodges that these birds will resort to 
when one has them in a corner, where it is seem- 
ingly impossible for them to escape, that one is 
lost in wonder at the almost human inteUigence 
displayed as by some maneuver least expected, 
a bird is out of danger with not a feather 
harmed. 

There is a favorite cover among the Berkshire 

Hills that a friend and I have shot over for 

several years. A portion of this cover is a wide 

strip of alders along a small stream between 

35 



MY FRIEND THE PARTRIDGE. 

two high and very steep hills. Upon one side 
there is open ground about twenty yards in 
width, with a hedge of hazel in the center some 
ten feet in width, extending about a hundred 
yards. Nearly every time we visit the place a 
partridge flushes from the strip of hazel before 
we are within two gunshots of her and climbs 
straight in the air to the top of the hill and safety, 
for it is almost impossible to follow her. We 
put up with this treatment on several occasions 
without protest, and rather admired the per- 
formance, but finally it became monotonous. We 
held a council of war, and after considerable de- 
liberation, we decided upon a course that would 
surely outgeneral the bird. My companion went 
around at the foot of the opposite hill beyond 
the head of the strip of hazel, where he crossed 
over and took position where the bird must give 
him a chance. When he was in place I sent on 
the dog and followed him with perfect confidence 
that there would be no more of this exasperating 
nonsense, for my companion was a sure shot, an-J 
both of us had already counted the bird. The 
dog had gone but a short distance along the hazel 
thicket, when I heard the bird rise nearly at the 
36 



SHOOTING GROUSE FROM TREES. 

upper end, and soon saw her over the top of the 
thicket, going in the right direction, and I knew 
she was our meat. My companion stood facing 
me, but when the bird was within ten feet of him, 
he turned around and brought his gun into posi- 
tion, intending to give it to her after she had 
passed him, but he never had a chance to pull 
trigger, for that blessed bird no sooner caught 
sight of him than she pitched down to the ground 
not twenty feet beyond him, alighting under the 
shelter of a big stone, when she ran for her life 
until at a safe distance, when she again took wing 
and was soon over the hills and far away. We 
brought home sixteen birds that day, but we 
always call it forty-eight, for we are both agreed 
that we had twice the fun and real enjoyment out 
of the bird in the hazel thicket that we did with 
all the others. 

Many years ago there was a noble cock grouse 
that made his home in a dense thicket that bor- 
dered a bog meadow. The bird died long ago 
probably from old age, as I do not believe that 
any one ever got a shot at him. I certainly did 
not, although I tried my best for it for several 
years, many times each season. How that bird 
37 



MY FRIEND THE PARTRIDGE. 

could run! No sooner did he hear the footsteps 
of hunter or dog than he would run at his best 
speed a long distance and then rise and fly to the 
opposite side of the cover, and so persistently did 
he follow these tactics that several of his most 
ardent followers became disgusted and left him to 
his fate; but I stuck to him and laid more plans 
for his destruction than would have brought to 
grief scores of ordinary birds. I once enlisted 
a company of six volunteers for the purpose of 
putting an end to the business. We started out 
with high hopes that at last we had our very 
foxy friend at a disadvantage, and that victory 
was ours. Arriving near the cover, my men 
silently advanced to their allotted stations, while 
I awaited the proper time when I sent on the dog. 
He soon struck the trail of our fleet-footed friend, 
and in a short time I heard the patter of his 
footsteps upon the dry leaves, and noted with 
satisfaction that he was going straight toward the 
center of the line of outposts. I then obliqued to 
the right, and was soon at my chosen stand in a 
little opening by the bog meadow, where I could 
cut off his retreat in case he should decide to 
come in my direction. After the battle was over 
38 



SHOOTING GROUSE FROM TREES. 

and we had come together to take account of 
stock and compare notes, I learned that our 
would-be victim ran within a few yards of one of 
the sentinels and stopped, but the cover was so 
dense that he could not be seen, and when next 
heard from this contumacious bird was running 
for his life the other way. This course brought 
him straight to me, and as I heard him coming, 
I knew he was mine, and mentally hugged myself 
in delight at the success of our plan. In a few 
seconds he came into the opening not twenty 
feet distant, still putting his best foot foremost; 
but he had taken but a few steps before he caught 
sight of me, when he moderated his break-neck 
speed to a stately walk, spreading out his tail and 
elevating his ruff until they stood out almost 
straight, while his top-knot stood on end, as he 
majestically paraded before me a few steps, when 
he disappeared from my sight behind a grassy 
bog. I was there in less than a second frantically 
kicking among the bogs in order to force a rise, 
but there was never a rise, nor did I again see 
him until he was two gunshots away, when I 
heard him rise and saw him as he burst from the 
middle of the narrow strip of bogs and took his 
39 



MY FRIEND THE PARTRIDGE. 

way toward a thicket of pines, where it was use- 
less to follow him. 

This trick of running away is by no means a 
common one, although I have known many in- 
stances of the kind, and have often heard hunters 
complain that this exasperating performance had 
been played on them. 



40 



CHAPTER VI. 
THE "CRAZY SEASON." 

There is one habit that is common to the whole 
race so far as I have been able to learn, and I 
have yet to meet the shooter who does not heart- 
ily condemn it, for this trait nearly spoils the 
pleasure of pursuing them for two or three weeks 
soon after the season opens. In September, 
usually, these birds seem to be posessed of the 
very spirit of unrest, taking wing without ap- 
parent cause, and flying away into the unknown 
aimlessly and often in a direction that leads them 
away from all cover. At this time, the country 
papers often contain accounts of partridges flying 
against buildings and killing themselves, or per- 
haps their erratic flight is through an open door 
or a window, but, so far as I have been able to 
learn, all such accidents occur when a dense fog 
41 



MY FRIEND THE PARTRIDGE. 

prevails. At this season they also devote a large 
share of the day to wandering long distances at 
a rate of speed that often puts the best of dogs at 
fault, for, long before he comes to the end of the 
erratic trail, the bird has flown, leaving its pur- 
suers in a bewildered state, not conducive to the 
enjoyment of that peace of mind and sweet con- 
tent which should obtain when seeking pleasure in 
the sports of the field. This behavior is variously 
known as "running time," "crazy time," or "wild 
time." All of these are appropriate, but "crazy" 
seems to be the better word. Although I have 
no doubt that there is "method in their madness," 
for I sincerely believe that bird or beast, or any 
created thing that possesses a trait, characteristic 
or instinct common to its race but does the will 
of an all-wise Creator when obeying the prompt- 
ings of nature. I have often heard and read that 
the falling of the leaves frightens the bird into 
this state, but it seems to me presumptuous to 
believe that He who created every living thing 
should implant in the hearts of those dwellers 
among the forests fear of any cause or effect that 
nature's laws ordain. 

While it is true that this season of unrest is 
42 



THE "CRAZY SEASON." 

usually coincident with the falling of the leaf, it 
is also true that it is often the case that it begins 
long before a leaf has fallen. I remember several 
seasons when the leaves did not begin to fall until 
this period was over, and I also well remember 
more than one season when a "crazy time" did not 
begin until long after the trees were nearly bare. 
I shall not attempt a solution of this interesting 
problem, but will merely suggest that perhaps this 
may be a provision of nature to separate the 
members of the different broods, in order to 
prevent inbreeding; or it is possible that the in- 
stinct to wander was implanted in their breasts 
to scatter them abroad in the land and thus popu- 
late places that otherwise would be desolate. At 
all events, these last two conditions appear to be 
accomplished, whatever other purpose may be 
served by their seemingly aimless wanderings. 

Many writers insist that food supply alone in- 
fluences the distribution of this as well as other 
birds and animals that are undomesticated, but 
so far as my experience goes, this is not nearly 
always the case, for I have repeatedly found large 
tracts of country that, to all appearances, were 
nearly destitute of food of any description, where 
43 



MY FRIEND THE PARTRIDGE. 

birds were always to be found in abundance. 
This has been notably the case with the partridge, 
and I have often wondered why certain apparently 
barren sections of country should be the chosen 
home of this bird, while good looking coverts not 
far distant, abounding in food of various kinds, 
should be so nearly desolate that time spent in 
looking them over was nearly always wasted. It 
is not because the birds were bred in these barren 
places that they make it their home, for many 
times I have shot in such places during the season 
several times as many birds as could have been 
bred there. I well remember one famous cover 
of this description that in early days I visited 
many times nearly every season for twenty years. 
This cover was known to every one in the vicin- 
ity as Scrub Oak Hill. It was rightly named, for 
nearly the entire growth consisted of crooked and 
sprawling scrub oak bushes from eight to twelve 
feet in height, with underneath scattered clumps 
of the dwarf growing bush known as Jersey tea. 
There was not, so far as I could discover, the 
slightest trace of any food that these birds ever 
eat upon the entire tract, although I gave the 
matter considerable attention, and carefully 
44 



THE "CRAZY SEASON." 

sought for something in this line that would sat- 
isfactorily explain why it was that birds in abund- 
ance were nearly always to be found here. I ex- 
amined hundreds of the stunted acorns that grew 
upon the scrub oaks, but never found a single one 
with anything more inside than a dried-up brown- 
ish substance that was entirely lacking in nutri- 
ment, as the birds undoubtedly well knew, for I 
never found a single acorn in the craw of one of 
the many that I examined. My researches in this 
direction failed for the most part to find anything 
in the way of food, except occasionally a green 
leaf or two or a few blades of grass; but for the 
most part, the craw would be entirely empty. 
Nevertheless, this barren spot was a favorite re- 
sort for the birds, and many times I have shot 
more than a hundred here during the season, 
often bagging every bird, only to find upon my 
next visit, perhaps within a day or two that the 
cover was again as abundantly stocked as before. 
Where they all came from was also a mystery to 
me, for the nearest cover was more than a quar- 
ter of a mile distant, with no other in any direc- 
tion within a mile. 
The partridge subsists upon so varied an as- 
45 



MY FRIEND THE PARTRIDGE. 

sortment of food that it is impossible to decide 
just what its favorite dish is, I have examined 
the craws of many hundreds in order to deter- 
mine this point, but am no nearer a decision than 
when I began my researches, for the apparent 
result of the investigation of one day would 
nearly always be overthrown by later inquiry. In 
sections where some one variety of food eaten by 
them was abundant, I have often found the craw 
filled with other food that appeared comparative- 
ly scarce in the vicinity, and that but little if any 
of the former had been used; then in other sec- 
tions where the food conditions were reversed, I 
have also found the contents of the craw entirely 
different from what I expected. I long ago de- 
cided that nothing was proven by this, except per- 
haps that these birds were very like myself in the 
selection of a dinner. A large proportion of their 
diet, at least during the fall months, consists of 
the leaves of a large variety of plants, blades of 
grass, berries of various sorts, although the so- 
called partridge berry I have very rarely found — 
indeed I am sure that half a dozen instances will 
cover every case that has come under my notice 
— and in all of these not more than one or two 
46 



THE "CRAZY SEASON." 

berries were found in any case. Chestnuts are 
a favorite food with them, and I have often found 
in a single craw quite a handful of them. They 
are also partial to acorns, especially those of the 
white oak, although I have frequently found those 
of the red oak — greatly to my surprise, as I could 
scarcely believe that they could swallow so large 
a pill as those I have found in their craw. 

Berries of several varieties are freely eaten, 
especially whortleberries and blackberries, as well 
as grapes and thorn apples. The seeds of the 
skunk cabbage form a dainty dish, and it is not 
uncommon to find the partridge's craws filled 
with them. Grain of any kind is rarely eaten by 
them according to my observation. 

With the exception of an occasional kernel 
of corn, I do not remember to have seen grain 
of any kind in their craws. This may also be 
said of the weed seeds that constitute so large 
a portion of food for the quail. During the win- 
ter, especially if snow covers the ground, almost 
the only food of the partridge is the buds of 
different trees and shrubs. Poplar, soft maple, 
yellow birch and a few other species are freely 
used by the partridge, while apple trees when 
47 



MY FRIEND THE PARTRIDGE. 

near their resorts appear to be an especial 
favorite. Indeed, in the early days farmers 
would tell you that the partridge greatly injured 
the apple crop by eating the buds, and we some- 
times hear the same complaint now, although 
it was long ago proven to be wrong. 



48 



CHAPTER VII. 
PARTRIDGE FOODS. 

More than fifty years ago Prof. Agassiz re- 
quested me to send him the craws of a number 
of partridge that had been eating the buds from 
apple trees in order that the truth might be 
known. When winter came I sent him six craws 
that were fairly well filled, but heard nothing 
from him in relation to the matter until the fol- 
lowing spring, when he added a postscript to a 
letter relating to fish, that the 130 buds of the 
apple tree were leaf buds with the exception of 
four, which were four more than he expected 
to find. I also made a number of examinations, 
but failed to find a single fruit bud. 

We have good authority for believing that the 
partridge devours a large quantity of insect food, 
but I have never found positive proof that this 
49 



MY FRIEND THE PARTRIDGE. 

was true, owing perhaps to the fact that my ex- 
aminations were made when this diet was out 
of season. I can readily believe this to be the 
case, however, when they are rearing their young 
as well as during the summer when there is a 
comparative scarcity of other foods. 

I have no doubt that they eat many other things 
of which I have no knowledge; for I have fre- 
quently found in their craws material that I 
could not identify. I know that one partridge 
at least ate nearly the whole of a mushroom 
that was three inches in diameter, for I saw 
her do it. I was gathering the succulent dainties 
for my own eating, when I saw some twenty 
feet away a land tortoise eagerly devouring a 
particularly fine one. I sat down on a convenient 
boulder to watch the amusing performance, for 
the reptile was greedy. After it bit off more 
than it could chew it would draw back and 
elevate his head, shut his jaws together, and 
with an ecstatic roll of his eyes swallow a por- 
tion of it while the remainder rolled from each 
corner of his mouth and dropped to the ground. 
Then I noted that the gourmand was frugal as 
well as greedy, for with a twist of his head he 
50 



PARTRIDGE FOODS. 

would bring an eye to bear on the fragments 
and then gather them in to the smallest piece, 
when the performance would be repeated with 
-grotesque variations that were very amusing. 

I had watched him for some time, when I 
saw, a few yards beyond him, a partridge walk- 
ing with a stately grace that no other bird can 
equal, as she went straight to a large fresh-look- 
ing mushroom. When she came to a halt be- 
fore it, with a graceful turn of her head she 
examined it a moment, and evidently finding it 
all right she took a dainty pick at it, and then 
settled down to business, eating in a ladylike 
manner that was in marked contrast to that of the 
hard-shelled glutton a short distance away. When 
she had finished the mushroom, with the excep- 
tion of a few fragments, she resumed her stately 
walk, and soon disappeared in the dense under- 
growth just beyond. I do not remember whether 
I gathered many mushrooms that day, but I do 
distinctly remember with deep satisfaction the 
great pleasure I enjoyed at this "al fresco" 
lunch of beauty and the beast. 

I have no doubt that the partridge drinks 
water, but I have never caught one in the act, 
51 



MY FRIEND THE PARTRIDGE. 

although I have upon several occasions watched 
them as they daintily appropriated the rain drops 
that were clustered upon the leaves, and once in 
early morning, as I came to the edge of some 
woods, I stopped within twenty feet of some 
newly-plowed ground that extended to the 
woods. I had stood there but a moment when 
I saw a partridge come out of the woods to the 
freshly turned ground, when she halted a short 
time, and after taking a look around turned and 
came directly toward me to the strip of green 
turf next the plowed ground, when she began 
drinking the drops of dew which sparkled upon 
every blade of grass. 

When she had apparently taken enough she 
began plucking and swallowing the grass until 
she caught sight of me, when with raised top 
knot, extended ruff and slightly expanded tail 
with majestic stride she slowly walked into the 
woods. This living picture often comes back to 
me, and I bless the kindly fortune that brought 
to rne so great a pleasure. 

I have survived several seasons when par- 
tridges were decidedly scarce. These periods 
come very irregularly. Occasionally but few 
52 



PARTRIDGE FOODS. 

years will elapse, or perhaps more than two 
decades may pass before another period of scarcity. 
One season when partridges were few and 
far between, I was working out a favorite cover 
near the home of a farmer friend, and had just 
shot a bird that proved to be the smallest one 
I ever saw, for it weighed only eleven ounces. 
At the report of the gun my friend joined me, 
and as the dog brought in the bird he took 
it and remarked that partridges were awful 
scarce, and then with a deprecatory glance at 
the diminutive specimen he rolled his eyes up 
added, "and small." 



SZ 



CHAPTER VIII. 
ENEMIES OF THE PARTRIDGE. 

That a large portion of the birds we mourn 
are dead I cannot believe, for it has very often 
been the case that the next season after a scar- 
city there has been one of plentiful supply in 
nearly all our coverts ; many more, in fact, than 
could have possibly been bred by the apparent 
supply at the close of the previous season. I 
do not understand this, and therefore shall 
not undertake to explain it. Ticks undoubtedly 
destroy a number of birds, but I do not believe 
that the inroads of this pest amount to five per 
cent, of the supply. The individual birds, young 
or old, seldom pick up more than a very few 
of the parasites, and all of the old birds and 
many of the young ones have strength to 
54 



ENEMIES OF THE PARTRIDGE. 

withstand the drain upon them, but occasion- 
ally a poor bird gets an extra number, and soon 
it falls a victim to this bloodthirsty enemy. 

I was once strawberrying with my wife, when 
we found a brood of partridges about the size 
of quail. They took to flight as we came near 
them. One that appeared to be smaller than the 
others, flew only a few yards and settled in some 
low brush, where I soon found him apparently 
nearly exhausted. I had no trouble in taking 
him in my hand. As I was carrying him to 
show to my companion, I saw upon his neck 
three large ticks, and as I examined him closely 
I found a large number of small ones. After 
looking him over I began pulling out the ticks, 
when the little fellow with evident satisfaction 
closed his eyes and stretched his neck toward 
me, apparently well pleased with the attention. 
When I had rid him of more than twenty of 
the pests, and my companion had petted him 
awhile, she lowered him toward the ground, but 
he appeared to be unwilling to leave her, and 
as she gently placed him on the ground he came 
toward her, and when she extended her hand 
he rubbed his head against it with evident pleas- 
55 



MY FRIEND THE PARTRIDGE. 

ure. We were both delighted with this new 
and very pleasing experience of sylvan life, and 
often by the quiet fireside is the story repeated. 

We have read much about the domestication 
of the partridge, and of an occasional instance 
where the result has in a measure been fairly 
successful. As a rule, the taming of the par- 
tridge is a very uncertain problem, although since 
the experience in the strawberry patch it has 
seemed to me that given a young bird with its 
neck swarming with ticks, the task could be 
easily accomplished. 

Cold storms, at the time of hatching, will 
sometimes prove disastrous to the young brood; 
but, very fortunately, cold or long storms then 
are of rare occurrence. Crows occasionally pick 
up very young birds. I have caught them in 
the act several times. Hawks and foxes feast 
upon the tender flesh when they can procure 
it, but our wise bird usually knows how to take 
care of itself. So far as my observation goes 
they very seldom furnish a feast for these 
marauders. 

I doubt that the fox can smell a partridge 
even when but a few feet away, and I also doubt 
56 



ENEMIES OF THE PARTRIDGE. 

that even hawks can see them when they have 
a fair chance to hide. 

I was once gathering chestnuts when I saw 
a large hawk sailing along just above the tree- 
tops. He suddenly wheeled around, and, with 
short beats of wing and head pointing down- 
ward, he eagerly looked for something that had 
evidently attracted his attention. After two or 
three minutes of this he alighted upon a branch 
near the top of a nearby tree and continued his 
search, but nothing came of it. I started for 
the place to discover the object that had caused 
him to perform those evolutions. The hawk took 
flight as I approached. When I came to the 
place three partridges flushed from the open 
ground where there was not a single bush to 
hide them, plainly showing me that when they 
saw the hawk they had crouched flat upon the 
dead leaves, and by remaining perfectly quiet 
had outwitted their enemy. 

Since early boyhood I have been an ardent 
lover of fox hunting, and, long before I was 
big enough to carry a gun, I often joined the 
dogs in the chase. By cutting corners I usually 
managed to be well up at the finish. Many 
57 



MY FRIEND THE PARTRIDGE. 

times, when snow had fallen, I have started out 
in early morning alone. Taking the trail of a 
fox I have followed it until I routed him from 
the swampy bog where he had laid up for the 
day. Often the trail would show that the fox 
was hunting. 

Several times I have flushed a partridge from 
its roosting place on the ground, only a few feet 
away from the trail, with never a sign that rey- 
nard had caught the faintest smell of it. This 
is the reason for the faith that is in me; that 
the fox is not possessed of the scenting powers 
that many give him credit for. 

The natural history books tell us that the part- 
ridge is of a rufous color, and many of the birds 
show this, but there are others. In fact, there 
are so many different and varying shades of 
color in different specimens that I feel incompe- 
tent to give a description that will do justice to 
each form. 

This difference in color is to be found in all 
sections where this bird abounds, and no one 
distinctive variety of color or marking pre- 
dominates in any section that has come under 
my observation. I have often read that in cer- 



ENEMIES OF THE PARTRIDGE. 

tain localities partridges were of darker or 
lighter color than the standard, giving one the 
impression that the writers intended to convey 
the idea that this was a hard and fast rule for 
that particular section of country. 

I have hunted quite extensively in every State 
east of the Mississippi River, where the par- 
tridge abounds, except Maine and Michigan, 
and as yet have failed to find even a limited 
section where these conditions obtain. In fact, 
I have invariably found that there is only one 
safe rule that governs this question, and that is 
not to judge of the color and markings of the 
bird in the bush by those of the bird in hand, 
for the chances are that before you have a score 
of birds in hand you will discover several very 
potent reasons that will cause you to change 
your mind. 

Many years ago I was shooting in Pennsyl- 
vania on the slopes of the Allegheny Mountains 
with Mr. Baker, the inventor of the Baker gun. 
While eating our lunch the dog flushed a par- 
tridge which alighted on a tree nearly over us, 
and my companion brought it down. When he 
picked it up he uttered an exclamation of sur- 
59 



MY FRIEND THE PARTRIDGE. 

prise and said that he had never seen a bird like 
that and did not believe there was another in 
the world. The bird was of a decided reddish 
color, and I told him that it was by no means 
rare and was well known to partridge hunters as 
an "old red-tail." But I plainly saw that he 
did not take much stock in the statement. Two 
days later I bagged one very much like it, and 
in the evening I carried it to him, when he 
allowed that the best of us are liable to make 
mistakes. 

In the early days I had a mania for exploring 
new territory and occasionally found a section 
where the first few birds would show a uni- 
formity of color and markings, which would 
lead me to decide that I had found the country 
and the bird where one phase of color pre- 
vailed, but invariably the next few birds would 
disprove the whole thing, and so often has this 
occurred, that I am forced to believe that the 
conclusions of these writers are based on insuf- 
ficient data. 



60 



CHAPTER IX. 
BIRDS THAT FIGHT. 

As A rule, the partridge is not quarrelsome., 
although I have seen two, or perhaps three, 
scraps among them, one of which was very in- 
teresting. Early one spring, I went to a birch 
knoll to cut some bean poles. I had been at 
work but a short time when a rustling in the 
bushes near me attracted my attention. I care- 
fully went toward the spot to investigate, and 
was greatly surprised to see in an open place 
two partridges fighting with the fury of demons. 
They were at it in true gamecock style, 
and mixed it up in a manner that would have 
brought joy to the heart of even the most 
hardened lover of the ringside. Nearly all of 
the fracas was on the ground, but occasionally 
they would go into the air several feet, all the 
6i 



MY FRIEND THE PARTRIDGE. 

time whacking each other with their wings and 
pecking with their bills, displaying a vim that 
plainly showed that the battle was no fake affair. 
It was a true fight that would not result in a 
draw. 

One of the birds was a trifle larger than the 
other. Of course, my sympathy was with the 
smaller, and I was deeply grieved when after 
a rattling round he turned tail and ran away 
with the other not more than two feet behind 
him. My sorrow was of very brief duration, 
however, for my favorite suddenly turned and 
went for his antagonist with a spirit and dash 
that would not be denied, rolling him over and 
jumping on him with both feet, all the while 
whacking him in a business sort of way that 
soon took all the fight out of him. He rose 
in the air and took a bee line for the tall timber 
at his very best gait, with the champion close 
after him. I saw them last at the edge of the 
woods some fifty yards away with the big one 
flying better than he could fight, for he clearly 
had the best of the victor in respect to flight. 

There was no more fighting among them, so 
far as I know, until some ten years later when 
62 



BIRDS THAT FIGHT. 

on a trout stream I again heard the sound of 
battle and was soon at the front; but I was 
a little too late, as with the exception of a short 
but decidedly brisk scrimmage, I saw nothing 
but a fleeting glimpse of the vanquished as he 
took to flight with the victor in close pursuit. 

A few years ago, as I was walking along some 
woods, I heard sounds just beyond a dense 
growth of brush that led me to believe that a 
fight was on. I at once started for the scene, 
but the cover was so tangled that my progress 
was very slow. I was too late to see the wind 
up, for as I parted the branches at the edge of 
the opening, I caught sight of the two birds, 
one stealthily getting away from there while the 
other was intently searching for his foe in the 
opposite direction. This is positively all that I 
know about the fighting habits of my dearly 
loved bird. 

I have been informed that partridges roost in 
trees, and many times I have been just as 
positively told that they roost on the ground. 
Many years ago I learned, after careful investi- 
gation, that both of these propositions are true, 
but whether the bird that perched in the tree 
63 



MY FRIEND THE PARTRIDGE. 

last night will sleep on the ground to-night is 
beyond me. Whether the bird that makes up 
its bed on the ground does so habitually or not 
is a mystery that I have been unable to solve. 
Often when the snow is deep and free from 
crust, the partridge will plunge into it and 
cuddle down for a night's rest oftentimes a foot 
or more below the surface. I have seen this 
performance but once, and am not competent 
to say that this course is always pursued. I 
was at a runway at the edge of some woods 
waiting for the fox to come, when a partridge 
alighted on a limb some fifteen feet from the 
ground and not more than fifty feet away. 
There he sat for a few moments, when with 
closed wings he dove down and buried himself 
in the snow. This was perhaps an hour before 
sunset, and I have no doubt that he remained 
there all night; for when passing near the place 
two days later, I went to the spot and found 
unmistakable signs that he had remained in 
the hole a long time. I had known for some 
years that they burrowed in the snow. I had 
paid rather dear for the knowledge, for a man 
who should have known better than to play 
64 



BIRDS THAT FIGHT. 

upon some of the best feelings of my nature, 
gave me a circumstantial account of famous 
times he had enjoyed in capturing lots of the 
birds by clapping a scoop net over those holes. 
This looked very plausible to me, and as there 
was a foot and a half of snow on the ground, 
I arose early the next morning, and taking a 
dip net that belonged to my uncle, I started for 
the woods with high hopes. It was heart- 
breaking traveling through the knee-deep snow, 
but thoughts of the birds I was to secure 
buoyed up my spirits and I pressed on with 
cheering hope that a great bag would be my re- 
ward. After a toilsome tramp of an hour or 
more, I saw just ahead of me the anxiously 
looked-fore hole in the snow, and with renewed 
hope and restored strength, I tightened my 
grip upon the handle of the net, and stealthily 
approaching the spot very carefully, placed it 
over the hole. This was all? No, not all, for 
my feelings were deeply wounded and my heart 
was sore over the disappointment, for I had 
fully believed that I should surely capture a 
bird. 



65 



CHAPTER X. 
DRUMMING. 

The drumming of the grouse is a character- 
istic of this bird that, so far as I know, is com- 
mon to no other species. Nearly every one 
who lives in a section of country where the 
partridge abounds is familiar with the strangely 
weird music of the love call of this beautiful 
bird. That it is a love call in spring time I 
know, whatever its object may be when the 
love season has passed, for I have heard them 
drum at all seasons, including every month in 
the year, and I have upon several occasions 
heard them late at night. 

The sound is more frequently heard in early 

spring and again in September and October, 

when on a still, balmy day they may be heard in 

every direction. It has fallen to the lot of 

66 



DRUMMING. 

comparatively few to witness this very striking 
performance, as our wary bird at this time is 
peculiarly susceptible to the slightest noise. At 
the least suspicion of intruding footsteps he at 
once takes to flight or skulks away through the 
convenient thicket. 

The partridge usually drums upon a log, al- 
though I have seen them go through the per- 
formance several times upon rocks and stumps, 
as well as on the bare ground. I shall never 
forget my first experience when, a boy, I tried 
to locate the author of the mysterious sound 
that came from a small clearing next to some 
woods. The clearing had grown up to sprouts 
about six feet in height, and I determined to 
investigate and obtain a view of the perform- 
ance and learn just how so small a bird could 
make so great a noise. 

I had been told, and fully believed, that they 
always drummed on a hollow log, and that the 
noise was made by beating the sides of the log 
with their wings. I had often explored the 
clearing, for it was a famous place for winter- 
green berries, and I knew there was a large 
hollow log near the place that the noise ap- 
67 



MY FRIEND THE PARTRIDGE. 

peared to come from. When I reached the 
edge of the cover, I got down upon all fours 
and stealthily crept toward the log until it was 
not more than twenty feet distant. I could 
plainly see every portion of the log, but there 
was no bird on it, and I was about to rise to 
my feet when the muffled thunder of the first 
drumbeat held me spell-bound until the per- 
formance was over, when with bated breath 
and wildly throbbing heart, I noiselessly crept 
to the log, as the noise was evidently some little 
distance beyond it. When I reached the log I 
raised my head, so that my eyes were just 
above it, when I saw the bird some thirty feet 
distant standing upon a stone, but he un- 
doubtedly saw or heard me, for with a thunder- 
ous roar he took his departure for the adjacent 
woods. 

The hollow log theory had entire possession 
of my mind, and I decided that the bird had 
run from it at my approach. A close examina- 
tion, however, conclusively proved to me that 
he had never set foot upon it, for its entire 
surface was closely covered with small scaly 
portions of bark that crumbled and fell to the 
68 




RUFFED GROUSE STRUTTING. 



DRUMMING. 

ground at the lightest touch. Then it came to 
me that I heard him drumming beyond the log, 
and the probability seemed almost certain that 
he had done this upon the stone. I at once 
proceeded to examine it. I found it to be about 
three feet in length by two in width, nearly 
the shape of an inverted platter and about a 
foot in height. Not more than half convinced, 
I determined to go to the bottom of this and 
by thorough investigation to learn the whole 
truth of the matter. Selecting a small bushy 
point, about thirty feet from the end of the 
log and the same distance from the stone, I 
cut away branches enough to make a small 
peep-hole, and then cutting a path in the rear 
to an open place, I returned home and im- 
patiently waited for the time when I should 
again hear the mysterious sound. 

It was nearly noon the next day when I heard 
it, and I at once started at full speed for the 
place, and was soon at the little opening, when 
I crawled along the path and had nearly reached 
the pine, when I again heard him, and hastening 
along, I looked through the little opening just 
in time to see the finish. He was at the middle 
69 



MY FRIEND THE PARTRIDGE. 

of the stone, and as I caught sight of him, was 
settling down into a crouching position, and, ex- 
cept for an occasional spasmodic jerk of his 
head, appeared to be taking a doze. This con- 
tinued for quite a while, then he rose, and 
standing apparently on tiptoe with his head 
thrown well back and ruff erect, he spread his 
wings to their full extent, and with a quick 
motion brought them together in front; then 
after about a second he again brought them to- 
gether, and this he repeated with ever-increas- 
ing speed until the finish, which was of a 
cyclonic order, and he was the most animated 
owner of feathers that I ever beheld. This per- 
formance was a revelation to me, and, although 
entirely different from what I had expected, I 
was perfectly satisfied. Gone forever was my 
belief in the hollow log theory, and gone for 
ever my faith in the man who had told the fairy 
tale. 

How many similar tales I have found false 
I cannot say, but they have been very many. 
I have witnessed this performance at several 
times, but it was always very nearly the same, 
except that the surroundings were often very 
70 



DRUMMING. 

dissimilar. One thing that struck me as very 
peculiar was that the noise appeared to sound 
louder when half a mile away than it did when 



71 



CHAPTER XL 
MATING AND NESTING. 

I HAVE somewhere heard that the partridge 
is devoted to its mate, is faithful unto death. 
The truth of the matter is that, after the 
love season has passed, the male has abso- 
lutely nothing to do with family affairs, and 
that the statement that the birds go "wandering 
hand in hand through sylvan groves" is a mere 
fancy flight of some carpet sportsman's imagi- 
nation. 

I once believed this, and I well remember 
that if, when shooting, I killed but one of a 
pair that rose in front of me, I felt very sad to 
think that the survivor would hereafter sadly 
wander through the "sylvan groves" all alone. 
I therefore made it a hard and fast rule to bag 
them both, if possible. I once brought down 
72 



MATING AND NESTING. 

a brace that rose nearly at the same time, and 
when the dog brought them in, a glance threw 
me into a state of doubt, and when I made an 
examination I found that they were both males. 
This set me to thinking, and for a long time 
afterward when I bagged a pair I at once ex- 
amined them, and in a very large majority of 
cases both proved to be of one sex, with a large 
preponderance of males. While this may not be 
evidence positive enough to convince the senti- 
mental reader, it fully satisfied me, so far as 
that "hand in hand" theory was concerned. 
Later, every particle of this sentimental feeling 
was obliterated when I discovered that our 
beautiful bird is a polygamist, or, at least, he 
was in Connecticut some sixty .years ago, for on 
several occasions I "caught them with the 
goods." 

One spring morning I was watching a par- 
tridge drumming on a log, when the hen bird 
came from the thicket into the open spot near 
the log. After receiving the attention of her 
mate, she strolled back in the direction from 
which she came, while he again mounted upon 
the log, and in the course of some ten min- 
7Z 



MY FRIEND THE PARTRIDGE. 

utes his love note was again filling the air with 
its music. Just as he closed the second per- 
formance, I saw another female come into 
the opening and walk toward him, when he 
came down from the log and paid his devoirs 
to the newcomer. This was so entirely differ- 
ent from what I had always believed that I ex- 
perienced quite a turn, and tried to persuade 
myself that the last was the same bird that had 
first appeared upon the scene, but there was no 
getting around the fact that the first comer had 
black bands across her tail, while the second 
one sported those of a bright chestnut color, 
and I was forced to believe that my best bird 
was a Mormon. Lingering doubt that this 
might have been a rare occurrence was com- 
pletely dispelled the following spring, when 
more than five miles from this place, I had op- 
portunity again to witness the same perform- 
ance, when three female birds came to the 
trysting place; and a few days later I again saw 
two come at nearly the same instant. These 
incidents of course dispelled the illusion that the 
partridge is "faithful unto death." 
I have never found the male partridge any- 
74 



MATING AND NESTING. 

where in the vicinity of a young brood, al- 
though I have often with my dog beat out a 
wide circle entirely around them, in order to 
test the matter to my satisfaction. 

It is the same when the female begins her 
housekeeping. She has no assistance from her 
"mate." I do not believe that she ever sees 
him unless perhaps by accident during the time 
devoted to family affairs. 

Her nest is of very simple construction — 
merely a slight depression in the ground that 
she makes by wallowing, using her wings to 
remove the soil, or she finds a little hollow that 
suits her purpose. This with a few leaves for 
lining is all she requires. The nest is made in 
early April. It is usually under a protecting 
bush, or near a fallen log, or beside a rock or 
stump. It is usually found in sprout land or 
near the edge of woods, although I have some- 
times found them in heavy timber at some dis- 
tance from the edge. She begins to lay when 
her nest is ready, usually about a dozen eggs, 
although I once saw a nest with seventeen. I 
have found them with less than half this number, 

I never succeeded in demonstrating to my sat- 
75 



MY FRIEND THE PARTRIDGE. 

isfaction just how long she sets, owing to the 
fact that I was unable to determine the exact 
time when her duties began. My first attempt 
resulted in the appearance of the brood in less 
than two weeks, and upon other occasions the 
result was very unsatisfactory. I have examined 
quite a number of nests after the birds were 
gone, and have invariably found that every egg 
had hatched. 

When the bird is sitting on her nest, it is 
almost impossible for the human eye to see her. 
I have repeatedly spent several minutes before 
I could locate her, even when I knew to a foot 
just where the nest was situated. She is so 
nearly the color of the leaves that cover the 
ground, and remains so perfectly motionless 
that she escapes observation from any one 
passing by unless they come too near her, when 
she at once takes wing. Even then it is often 
impossible to see the eggs, for the first motion 
of her wings spreads the leaves over them, com- 
pletely covering them from sight. I once found 
a nest the last day of May, and the next morn- 
ing I again visited it, but nothing remained save 
the empty shells. Upon my return I struck for 
76 



MATING AND NESTING. 

a wood road that led in the direction I wished 
to go, when I came across the brood, but I 
had only a fleeting glance at them, for at the 
warning note of the mother bird every fluflfy 
ball disappeared from sight. Then the old 
bird, with wings, legs and back apparently 
broken, floundered past me, and with many 
queer contortions very slowly worked her way 
down the path. Wishing to see the whole of 
the performance, I followed her slowly at first 
but at gradually increasing speed until I was 
walking at my best, but she kept just ahead of 
me until quite a distance from her charge, when 
she suddenly recovered from her grievous 
wounds, and with quickly beating wings, she 
mounted in air and was of? like a shot. Grati- 
fied at witnessing her well planned ruse, I re- 
turned to the vicinity of the brood, greatly 
wondering that those tiny chicks, only a few 
hours old, should understand the import of that 
warning note, and that they should be able to 
so quickly disappear in so open a spot. Seat- 
ing myself behind a spreading bush a few yards 
away, I awaited further developments. I was 
not kept long in suspense, for I soon heard the 
77 



MY FRIEND THE PARTRIDGE. 

plaintive music of the call of the mother, when, 
as by magic, the little forms came apparently 
from out the ground and with eager haste 
scuttled away in the direction of the loving call. 
I sat there a long time musing upon the won- 
derful display of intelligence manifested by 
these newly born fledglings, and wondering why 
it is that we poor human beings must wait for 
years before we can comprehend such things, 
and even then I fear that very many of us 
pay scant heed to the danger warning or the 
loving call. 

The mother bird broods her young just as 
a hen broods her chickens. The diet of the 
little fellows is one of the mysteries that I have 
been unable to solve, but it must be of a very 
nourishing character, for they increase in 
stature at a wonderful rate, attaining nearly 
their full growth in ten or twelve weeks. 



78 



CHAPTER XII. 
SNARING IN EARLY DAYS. 

Centuries before the advent of the shotgun, 
partridges were caught in snares. This method 
is in use at the present day. The farmer's boy 
who sets a few for his amusement does not de- 
plete the stock to an appreciable extent, but the 
expert market hunter will very nearly extermi- 
nate the birds throughout his entire range of 
snares. 

I know that it is sinful to set snares, but 
time was when I thought differently. In my 
early days, before I knew anything about a 
gun, I had considerable experience in this line, 
but as soon as I was big enough to carry a 
gun, I became convinced of the wickedness of 
snaring and of course at once stopped it. 

My first snare was set more than sixty years 
79 



MY FRIEND THE PARTRIDGE. 

ago, but as my thoughts go back to that bright 
winter's day, the scene rises before me as 
fresh as though it were yesterday. At my 
home, Thanksgiving Day was the great day of 
all the year. We always trimmed up the house 
with evergreens, had a turkey with all the 
fixings, and such pies and cake! not but that I 
have just as good now, for I was lucky enough 
to find a little girl who can cook just as well as 
mother did. 

When I was nearly eleven years old, Thanks- 
giving week came, and on Monday father 
started for Hartford, leaving us to make 
preparation for Thanksgiving, saying that he 
would be home early on Wednesday, and would 
bring the turkey. On Tuesday night there 
came a severe snow-storm that left about a foot 
of snow on the ground, and we had grave fears 
that father would not be able to come on time, 
as forty miles of such traveling would be too 
much for the horse to accomplish. 

Mother thought we had better make our 

preparations, as possibly he might come, so I 

started for the hemlocks about a half mile away 

to procure the evergreen for decorating the 

80 



SNARING IN EARLY DAYS. 

house. Wallowing through the deep snow, I 
soon reached the place, which was a splendid 
grove of stately hemlocks that stood singly 
and in groups, each tree or group forming a 
beautiful pyramid from the ground to a height 
of fifty to sixty feet. I shall never forget the 
dazzling beauty of that group of cones on that 
bright sunny morning, as they stood there in 
silent grandeur with the living green of their 
foliage half obscured with the fleecy snow, and 
their long slender arms gracefully drooping 
under its weight, while in the foreground was 
a clump of tall birches also weighted down 
with snow until their tops nearly rested on the 
ground. The whole formed a picture that all 
the years have not dimmed. 

As I approached the nearest tree, I was 
startled by the noise and flutter of a large 
number of grouse that had been taking shelter 
on the bare ground under the tree. I have no 
doubt that there were fifty of them, perhaps 
more, for in those days there were grouse. 
While watching them the thought came to me 
that perhaps I could capture some of them, and 
the longer I dwelt upon the thought, the more 
8i 



MY FRIEND THE PARTRIDGE. 

I wanted one or two of them to take home 
with me. I had not much faith in the promised 
turkey, and it seemed to me that a brace of 
these birds would help out with the dinner on 
the morrow in a most satisfactory manner; so I 
set my wits to work to solve the question as to 
how I should accomplish the wished for 
capture. A few days before this, I had ac- 
companied a young friend when he had visited 
his snares and had taken a mental note of the 
manner in which they were arranged. As recol- 
lection of this came to me, I felt that the prob- 
lem was solved, and that some of these beauti- 
ful birds would grace the empty platter. I be- 
gan to overhaul my pockets in search of string, 
but all that I could find was a solitary bit of 
common wrapping twine, not more than a foot 
and a half in length, just about enough for one 
snare. I had intended to go into the business 
of snaring on rather an extensive scale, but the 
limited quantity of string obliged me to modify 
my views, so I worked with the material at hand 
and soon had two stakes cut and stuck into the 
ground in the form of the letter A with the 
string tied securely around the top and a slip- 
82 



SNARING IN EARLY DAYS. 

noose at the other end which I spread open and 
fastened in the orthodox manner to nicks in the 
side of the sticks. Then with other sticks and 
trash I formed wings on each side of the snare 
some three or four feet in length, and when all 
was ready, I went around the tree under which 
the birds had flown and again routed them and 
succeeded in driving a large portion of them 
under my tree. When I rushed back to the 
spot I found to my intense wonder and delight 
that one of the birds had the noose fast around 
its neck, and I soon had it safe in my hands. 

While admiring the beautiful bird, the 
thought struck me that I must kill it, but my 
whole nature revolted at the idea, and as I de- 
bated the question, laying, I fear, undue stress 
upon that empty platter at home, I inadvertent- 
ly held fast hold on the bird with the string so 
tightly drawn about its neck that the matter 
was settled before I had arrived at a conclusion, 
and it was with no little surprise and I must 
add satisfaction that I discovered that the bird 
was dead. This result removed a heavy load 
from my mind, and I at once released the noose 
from its neck, and again adjusted it, and lay- 
83 



MY FRIEND THE PARTRIDGE. 

ing my treasure at the foot of the tree, I 
started for another drive, but this time did not 
succeed in making a capture, as I was too 
eager and rushed to the place before the birds 
had time to move around. 

At the next drive, I waited a few minutes, 
and then approaching carefully, I saw a bird 
run through the door and suddenly bring up 
and flutter as it came to the end of the string. 
Then I made my rush, and so hardened had my 
feelings become by success that my conscience 
pricked me but little as I shut my eyes and 
pulled on the bird until I thought it safe to lay 
it beside its companion. 

After this I made several unsuccessful drives 
as the birds were becoming scarce, and I was 
obliged to visit several of the trees before I 
could get a half dozen under my tree, but I 
finally succeeded in capturing a third victim, 
which I deliberately strangled with scarcely a 
feeling of remorse. I have a distinct recollec- 
tion that I then wondered why this should be 
so, and that I tried to reason out the matter 
and find a solution of the problem, but came 
to no satisfactory conclusion. 
84 



SNARING IN EARLY DAYS. 

When I had secured my third bird, it was 
past the noon hour and high time that I was on 
my way home, so I tied my three birds together 
with the string that I had used for my snare, 
then breaking off a large armful of hemlock 
boughs, I shouldered them, and carrying my 
birds in the other hand, with a proud heart and 
light footsteps, I started back by the path I 
had made when coming. 

Just as I was passing through the barway 
into the village street, I met a Quaker neigh- 
bor whose countenance lighted up when he 
saw the birds, and in a cheerful but rather sur- 
prised tone he exclaimed, "Thee has done well," 
Then the pleasant smile on his face faded out, 
the corners of his mouth drew down, and the 
cheerful tone slowly changed to one of re- 
proachful regret as he added, *Tf thee has not 
stolen them." 

This was a poser. I did not understand it at 
all, and I bothered over it for several days and 
finally went to him and asked for an explana- 
tion. He toid me that he had been brought up 
to believe that anything taken from the land 
of another without paying for it or at least 
8S 



MY FRIEND THE PARTRIDGE. 

obtaining permission from the owner was 
stolen. 

Now this bothered me more than the other, 
and after thinking it over a while, I went to 
the owner of the land and told him the whole 
story, Quaker and all, and just how I felt about 
it. "Well," said the old man as he patted me 
on the head, "I am glad that you have told me 
this, and when you want to set snares on my 
land, you just go on and set them, and it will 
be all right. I never hunt or trap and don't 
care a snap who kills the game. I never forbid 
any one hunting on my land, but at the same 
time I should feel much better about it if the 
hunters would only ask permission as you have 
done. I think that about all the farmers feel 
the same." 

This little sermon sank deep into my heart 
and I have endeavored to live up to its teach- 
ings all through life. I know that I have, by 
pursuing this course, made many warm friends 
as well as obtained much good shooting that 
otherwise I should never have found. 

When I carried the birds into the house and 
showed them to my mother, her astonishment 
86 



SNARING IN EARLY DAYS. 

and delight were unbounded. As she examined 
them and bestowed unstinted praise upon me, I 
resolved, deep down in my heart, that I would 
become a hunter. In order that I might start 
fair with a good outfit, I went to my uncle's 
room, and overhauling his fishing tackle, 
selected a line that I thought was about the 
thing for snares and put it in my pocket. Then, 
with a mind at rest, so far as equipment was 
concerned, I returned to the kitchen and 
assisted in dressing the birds, which were 
stuffed and placed in the pantry ready to take 
the place of that turkey, in case father failed 
to come. 

At twelve o'clock, on Thanksgiving Day, he 
had not arrived. The birds were laid in a row 
in the dripping pan, with a thin slice of fat 
salt pork on each breast. They were then put 
in the oven, and just as mother had pronounced 
them almost done and was about to set the 
table, father drove into the yard. As I started 
for the door mother bade me say nothing about 
the birds, so I kept quiet and busied myself 
with taking care of the horse while father, after 
taking the paper off the turkey and showing it 
87 



MY FRIEND THE PARTRIDGE. 

to me, carried it into the house. Mother at 
once began getting it ready for the oven, while 
father went to his room to change his clothes, 
never mistrusting that there was anything out 
of the usual course, and thinking that he would 
have to wait for his dinner until the turkey was 
cooked. 

You can imagine his surprise when he came 
from his room to find us seated around the 
table with all the good things complete, except 
that instead of the turkey those three birds 
were smoking on the platter. I shall never 
forget his look of pleased surprise as he seated 
himself at the table and served the dainty dish 
amid a perfect avalanche of words from all five 
of us as we gave him full particulars of the 
whole performance, nor shall I ever forget his 
after-dinner speech, nor the look he gave me 
as he turned to me and said, "Well, my boy, 
I must thank you for the very best Thanks- 
giving dinner I ever enjoyed." It is perhaps 
needless to say that this made me very happy, 
and I again resolved that I would become a 
hunter. 

At that time I had no conception of the true 
88 



SNARING IN EARLY DAYS. 

meaning of the word. I only knew that so far 
as I had progressed in the science of woodcraft, 
the pleasurable excitement attending success 
and the pride that swelled my heart as words 
of praise from loved ones fell upon my ears 
were very acceptable. 



89 



CHAPTER XIII. 
THE ADVENT OF THE GUN. 

Hand in hand with the shotgun came the dawn 
of the millennium for the sportsman, and it is a 
most interesting study to trace, step by step, the 
evolution of the sports of the field from that 
period to the present day. Within the memory 
of man, what wonderful strides have been made 
toward perfection in the implements accessory 
to our woodland sports ! What a vast army of 
enthusiasts have enrolled themselves under the 
sportsman's banner until there is scarcely a ham- 
let in all this broad land that cannot boast one 
or many expert wing-shots. 

I well remember that, when I was a boy, the 
man who could "shoot flying" was looked upon 
as a wonder, and pointed out to strangers as one 
90 



THE ADVENT OF THE GUN. 

far above the common herd, but now "the woods 
are full of them." 

The noble sport of field shooting has done 
much for the men and boys of the last two gen- 
erations. It has enabled them to store up a 
stock of vitality that has done them good 
service in time of need. The forms of those 
who practice it will not be prematurely decayed, 
their minds will not easily be warped by world- 
ly cares; for there is a stimulus in the air of 
the forest that fills their veins with a potent 
power to withstand the debilitating effects of 
the strenuous life. Not only this, but the aver- 
age boy must perforce, in some manner, work 
off the surplus steam that all boys are possessed 
of— at least, all boys that are worth while. It 
has been my experience that in many instances 
these high-strung youngsters, who did not take 
to the woods, have worked off this surplus 
steam in a manner that was very distressing to 
their friends, and far from being conducive to 
their own well being. 

So when your boy asks for a gun, thankfully 
place it in his hands and wish him good luck. 
If you can, lead him to the chosen haunt of the 
91 



MY FRIEND THE PARTRIDGE. 

partridge and get him thoroughly interested in 
the pursuit of this beautiful bird. My word for 
it, neither you nor the boy will ever regret it 

The young sportsman — and, for that matter, 
the old one, too — when they first seek the haunts 
of game, have a discouraging difficulty in re- 
conciling the results of their outing with the 
bright anticipation that illuminated their horizon 
when with buoyant hopes and eager steps they 
set forth to conquer the world of sport, of 
which dreams and wakeful thought had, with a 
free hand, drawn such wonderful pictures. 

The tyro usually expects to flush game at 
every step, and his nerves are keyed up to a 
tension that will nearly always snap when at 
last the bird is routed. Now this tension is all 
right; for one of the most important rules to 
observe when seeking the partridge is, to be 
always ready; but one's nerves should also be 
ready, and when one has so schooled them that 
the sudden rise will not unsteady them, one has 
taken a long stride on the road to success. 

In seeking for the partridge, there is no rule 
that will surely lead you tO' them; for often a 
thorough search of the best places will fail to 
92 



THE ADVENT OF THE GUN. 

find them; and then in places that are most un- 
likely they will suddenly rise, and, if one is not 
ready, he will most assuredly score a lost op- 
portunity. 

A good dog is indispensable for successful 
pursuit of this wily bird, and the better the dog 
the more satisfactory will be one's share of the 
sport. Good dogs are fairly abundant; but the 
first-class partridge dog is very hard to find. I 
have owned and shot over hundreds, and have 
seen many really good ones, but those that were 
strictly of the first class I can number on my 
fingers with room to spare. The reader may 
think my standard too high, but one day afield 
with an animal that comes up to the mark will 
convince one that it is no dream that prompts 
my estimate. 

It is a common belief that the partridge dog 
must be slow, with stealthy, noiseless footsteps, 
approaching his birds with a cat-like tread that 
will not frighten them. I once fully believed 
this, as the first really good dog that I saw pos- 
sessed these characteristics in a marked degree; 
but later I owned a dog whose style of hunting 
was most decidedly the opposite of this. He 
93 



MY FRIEND THE PARTRIDGE. 

was fast as a ghost. He made nearly as much 
racket in going through the covers as would an 
ox team; but he found his birds and pointed 
them in grand style. He almost invariably held 
them fast, for they would lie for him like stones. 

Why it is that birds will lie for some dogs 
regardless of the manner in which they do their 
work, and will not do so for others that ap- 
parently have the same style, passes my com- 
prehension. I only know that something is 
wrong with the dog, but what it is I am unable 
to say. 

In selecting your partridge dog, do not 
hastily condemn the slow, stealthy action, nor 
the bold, speedy work, for either will show you 
satisfactory sport, provided the ability to hold 
the birds is a part of their accomplishments, 
and they have learned to work to the gun. The 
partridge dog must be born that way. This, 
with plenty of practice under proper tuition, is 
the whole secret of the matter. 

The partridge is often found in out-of-the-way 

places that the novice fails to discover. The 

thorn bush, perhaps a gunshot away from the 

cover, does not look a likely place for them; 

94 



THE ADVENT OF THE GUN. 

but they are often there nevertheless. The 
grapevine that covers a few low-growing bushes 
is a favorite place for them, although it may be 
some little distance from the cover. The white- 
oak tree that stands a short distance away in 
the open ground is a chosen resort for them 
when acorns are ripe, and I have . frequently 
found from one to a half dozen birds in such 
places. The fence that leads from the cover is 
also frequented by them, especially when there 
is a hedgerow beside it ; in fact, there are so 
many out-of-the-way places where they may oc- 
casionally be found, that it is worth while to 
look them all over, I have often at nearly the 
close of day flushed a bird from the top of a 
wall or stump, log or other perch that would 
be three or four feet above the ground, but 
usually they would rise out of shot, as from 
their elevated position they could readily see 
when it was proper to take their departure. 
Investigation showed me that the bird would 
nearly always be found upon the same perch at 
about the same time, on successive days, and 
after this discovery the rest was easy; for all 
that was necessary was boldly to advance to- 
95 



MY FRIEND THE PARTRIDGE. 

ward the place from the direction that they 
would naturally take, shaping one's course so 
that it would appear that one was going to 
pass by some twenty yards to one side. Straight 
powder will do the rest, for one will usually 
have an easy shot. 

In October and November, upon still, sunny 
days, partridges may frequently be found by 
the side of the road that passes through the 
cover or upon the sunny side of a cart path or 
little opening in the woods, where they usually 
lie close until one is quite near them. One sea- 
son, some thirty years ago, I was entirely out 
of a dog. As I could only devote an occasional 
day to my favorite sport, "My days were sad, 
my nights were drear." Although my nights 
and Sundays were devoted to making solemn 
resolutions that next season I would have 
matters arranged more to my satisfaction, I was 
far from being in my normal condition. In 
November when the beautiful Indian summer 
came to us I could stand the strain no longer, 
so upon a bright, balmy morning, with my wife 
seated beside me in the buggy, we took to the 
woods. My horse was well trained for this 
96 



THE ADVENT OF THE GUN. 

work, and my companion could handle the 
ribbons better than any one I ever met; for she 
had learned the lesson upon the broad open 
fields, when driving for plover. 

On this day we were fortunate; birds were 
very plentiful, and I was blessed with straight 
powder. We flushed sixteen birds and brought 
them all home, using the second barrel only 
twice. Every one was found within less than 
five miles from where I am now sitting; indeed, 
more than one-half of them were inside the city 
limits. This was a red letter day, never to be 
forgotten; and as I recall the very many 
glorious days that have fallen to my lot, this 
one has a prominent place in the front rank. I 
have tried this method perhaps a dozen times, 
but have never succeeded in scoring one-half 
the number that fell to me upon this occasion. 

The successful partridge hunter when searching 
for his favorite bird, has both eyes wide open, 
especially when he is exploring unknown terri- 
tory. It is often the case that even in well 
stocked localities the wandering habit of these 
birds leads them away from their usual haunts, 
and a well trained dog in vain beats out every 
97 



MY FRIEND THE PARTRIDGE. 

foot of the inviting looking cover without even 
a smell of them to reward his unwearied efforts. 
It is in such cases that a watchful eye is helpful. 
It should carefully scan each likely looking spot 
as one passes through the cover and should note 
the absence or presence of tell-tale signs that 
will almost surely lead one to a correct con- 
clusion. Should the absence or infrequency of 
these plain tokens show that there were very 
few or perhaps no birds here, at once seek other 
places and with ever-renewed faith and hope, 
try, try again. 

Should one, however, discover fairly plentiful 
fresh sign, one's eye brightens as with quickened 
pulse, a firmer grip upon the gun and assuring 
faith that the silent tip is straight, one carefully 
searches each outlying patch of brush, each 
hedgerow or fence, and even all the unlikely 
looking places that could by any possibility hold 
the birds, until at last one stands with flushed 
cheeks and countless cold chills running up and 
down one's spine, gazing with delight upon the 
living statue whose every hair assures that he 
has found them at last. Not the least pleasing 
part of this performance is the proud satisfac- 
98 



THE ADVENT OF THE GUN. 

tion, as one realizes that one's well-earned skill 
in woodcraft has brought its reward. 

There are many of these silent tokens of the 
presence of birds scattered through the cover 
that the practiced eye will readily detect. One 
of the most prominent of them, perhaps, is the 
readily seen wallow hole where the partridge 
has taken its dust bath. This depression in the 
soft ground is similar to that made by the barn- 
yard fowl for the same purpose, except that it 
is much smaller. The places best loved by the 
bird for this purpose are the sunny borders of 
covers or open places within them and where 
there is a bit of bare mellow ground, or the 
decayed dry remains of stump or fallen log, and 
often upon the side of a deserted ant hill. 



99 



CHAPTER XIV. 
MYTHS DISPROVED. 

Many years ago, I read a well told tale of the 
preternatural wisdom of my favorite that made 
a lasting impression upon me. According to 
the tale, there was once upon a time a wise old 
partridge that by some sad mischance had be- 
come infested with lice, and how to get rid of 
the annoying pests, bothered her; but she was 
equal to the occasion, for after sitting down and 
scratching her head, she took a good long think 
and then suddenly jumped to her feet, exclaimed 
"Eureka!" and at her best gait ran straight to 
a large ant heap, on top of which she began to 
scratch and wallow to the dismay of its many 
thousand inhabitants, who at once flocked to the 
scene to give battle to the disturber of their 
peaceful home. No sooner had the infuriated 

ICO 



MYTHS DISPROVED. 

host of ants attacked the intruder than the lice 
were discovered, when with joyful shouts the 
whole army began to devote its energies to 
securing the prisoners, and in almost no time 
the last one was dragged to the depths of the 
dark dungeon below. Then with a glad smile 
illuminating her cheerful countenance, our wise 
bird shook the dust of the ant heap from her 
feathers, and took her departure. The tale deeply 
interested me, and for two or three years I 
examined hundreds of ant hills in order to find 
out if there were other birds as wise as this 
one; but, although I found a number that had 
been used by the birds for their dirt bath, they 
were without exception uninhabited. 

One more item in this connection and we 
will dismiss the tale. Partridges are never 
lousy. 

There are other signs of the presence of these 
birds that the eye, trained to see them, will 
readily discover. Often there will be a discarded 
feather, their droppings, or perhaps a footprint 
upon a patch of sand, and, upon moist ground 
where the skunk cabbage thrives, the broken 
seed pods divested of their contents will in- 

lOI 



MY FRIEND THE PARTRIDGE. 

variably tell you that the partridge has been 
there, for there is no other bird that eats this 
highly seasoned viand. 

From about the middle of October until early 
spring, partridges flock together, often in large 
droves; at least this is the case in country where 
they are not much disturbed. It is often the case 
that the hunter, late in the season, if not fortun- 
ate enough to find their gathering place, fails to 
find a tithe of the birds that he knows have oc- 
cupied the ground only a short time previous. If 
he is not well informed as to the habits of the 
bird in this respect, a portion at least of his jour- 
ney home is devoted to anathematizing hunters, 
hawks and foxes for the utter desolation that 
abounds. 

I was fox-hunting one day in November, 
when I ran into a pack of more than fifty birds, 
and the next day, with a chosen companion, 
we were early at the place but it was in vain 
that we searched every bit of cover, not a bird 
could we find. Finally, when it was past the 
middle of the afternoon we came out of the last 
cover, and stood in the open upon a steep hill- 
side trying to decide as to the best course to 

102 



MYTHS DISPROVED. 

take. At the foot of the hill, sixty yards below 
us, lay the top of a large chestnut tree that had 
been cut down in the summer, for it was still 
covered with leaves, but we paid no attention 
to it until the dog stuck his nose in the air, and 
rising to his feet drew down the hill and came 
to a beautiful point not more than twenty feet 
from the tree. 

Without exchanging a word we picked our 
way down the steep hillside, my companion to- 
ward the butt of the tree, while I approached 
the top. Before I had reached the desired posi- 
tion a contumacious bird, with malice prepense, 
burst through the dead leaves, and at her best 
speed came straight at my head, apparently well 
knowing that of all shots this one was least 
liked by me because I nearly always scored d 
miss; and although now I tried my best, this 
one was no exception to the rule. I tried her 
again and saw her double up just at the edge of 
the cover, where to our surprise she struck in 
the crotch of a small beech tree where she re- 
mained until the battle was over. 

At the report of the gun several more flushed, 
and my companion scored a pretty double. As 
103 



MY FRIEND THE PARTRIDGE. 

they appeared loath to leave the shelter of the 
old treetop, getting up one or two at a time, 
we had more sport than had ever fallen to our 
lot over one point; for the dog remained staunch 
until the last one was routed, when with a glance 
at me and an expressive wag of his tail he gal- 
loped up the steep hill to where the first bird 
was still hanging in the crotch and with a mighty- 
spring secured it. Then he went for the others. 
When the job was finished we had eighteen 
beauties laid side by side on the grass. Neither 
of us had kept any count, but we knew that the 
dog had marked every one, and when he brought 
the last one and laid it in my hands and looked 
up at me with sparkling eyes and wagging tail, 
telling us in language that we well understood 
that this was glorious sport, we knew that it 
was useless to search for more, although my 
companion insisted that there must be more than 
fifty still ungathered. I soon convinced him that 
the dog was right by explaining that sport like 
this was not conducive to clear judgment. He 
modified the statement by saying that we had 
sport enough for a hundred, and in this I fully 
agreed. I have enjoyed very many delightful 
104 



MYTHS DISPROVED. 

interviews with my peerless bird, but never be- 
fore or since have I been in quite so hot a cor- 
ner as that. 

My companion made a peculiar shot that caused 
us no little astonishment. He pulled for a bird, 
but the cap failed to explode, and as he gave 
her the other barrel a bluejay, that was flying 
along more than twenty feet beyond the bird 
and fully that distance out of range, shut her 
wings and came down stone dead. On exami- 
nation of the jay we found that a pellet had 
struck her in the head, and we finally decided 
that this shot must have become jammed out of 
true in some manner to cause it to diverge so 
widely from the straight line. 

While discussing what was the matter we 
were joined by a farmer friend who lived near, 
and after giving him the facts in the case he 
decided that there was nothing singular or out 
of the way, for all of us have to go when the 
time comes, and evidently the bluejay's time was 
up. This started my companion. He was always 
wound up and only needed something of this 
nature to set him going, so he gave us a com- 
plete insight into all the secrets of nature and 
105 



MY FRIEND THE PARTRIDGE. 

the working of immutable laws, finally wind- 
ing up with the statement that in accordance with 
what was ordained in the beginning the jay had 
met its fate. The conduct of our farmer friend 
was all that could be desired, and at the close 
he oracularly exclaimed, "Boys, it was ordained 
in the beginning that you should come over to 
the house and have some cider." 



I oh 



CHAPTER XV. 
AUTUMN HABITS. 

Late in the fall there is a gathering of the par- 
tridge clans that is not generally understood 
by many who are fairly well up in the knowl- 
edge pertaining to the successful pursuit of par- 
tridges. The hen partridge usually chooses a 
place that suits her, in which to rear her brood. 
She does not consider the views or tastes of the 
human expert, who often wonders that so many 
ideal spots for this purpose are desolate. It is 
for this reason that valley and plain as well as 
hillside and summit are places chosen almost 
equally by these fastidious birds, in which to 
make a home while family cares hold their 
sway. In these strenuous times the lowland 
coverts as well as those that are on higher 
grounds, if they are not too difficult to work, 
are completely shot out early in the season, and 
107 



MY FRIEND THE PARTRIDGE. 

after each hunter has beaten them out — perhaps 
several times — and found to his disgust that 
there is nothing there, he leaves the barren spot 
and seeks in distant localities for some elysium 
where some birds may be had. There is still, 
however, balm in Gilead, for, thanks to the wise 
old mother birds who have reared their broods 
in inaccessible places in the hills and mountains, 
these low lying coverts will soon again resound 
with the music of swiftly beating pinions, and 
again will the sportsman who is "up to snuff" 
revel in the joys of delightful days among the 
birds — the scenes he loves so well. 

At some period in late fall, many of the birds 
that were reared in places unvisited by gunners 
meander along the little brooks and runs that 
lead down the mountain, working their way to 
the more congenial scenes below, often if un- 
disturbed in their pilgrimage, arriving at the low- 
land coverts in a goodly covey. I have studied 
this matter for many years with a zeal that 
merits better result, but I am unable to give 
even meagre particulars of why the time of their 
coming is so uncertain. 

I only know that they come sometime in the 
io8 



AUTUMN HABITS. 

late fall; except in one instance when no birds 
had arrived in three of my favorite covers on 
the last day of the open season, which was then 
the last day of the year. I was much worried 
over this, and feared that the birds were dead, 
and when another month had passed, and I could 
not find them, I was sure that evil had befallen 
them. Two weeks later, however, which was 
past the middle of February, a friend told me 
his spaniel had flushed a number of partridges 
near the road in one of these covers, and I was 
again happy. The next day I drove to the place 
and my dog found more than a score. We then 
visited the other covers and found them abund- 
antly stocked. 

There is a valley in one of the most pic- 
turesque sections of the Berkshire Hills that has 
been a favorite resort of mine for years. This 
valley is more than a mile in length and very 
irregular, from ten to one hundred rods in width, 
nearly covered with a rather sparse growth of 
alders and witch hazel, interspersed with numer- 
ous patches of green grass with a beautiful trout 
stream winding through it, making an ideal home 
.for the woodcock and partridge. 
109 



MY FRIEND THE PARTRIDGE. 

On a bright October day, in the early sixties, 
I first visited this beautiful spot, with a newly 
made friend, who had kept it for his own private 
use for several years. 

Leaving our team at the home of a farmer 
friend of my companion we struggled through 
a half mile of very rough country to the lower 
end of the valley. When we finally broke cover 
I stood spellbound for a time gazing at the beau- 
tiful scene to the delight of my companion, who 
finally took off his hat and waving his arm to- 
ward the upper end begged to introduce me to 
his woodcock parlor. This name was very ap- 
propriate, for a sweeter spot for the longbills 
I never saw. Best of all, the birds knew it as 
well, for during the years that I have visited 
the place I have never failed to find a goodly 
number at home. Partridges were not very plen- 
tiful, although we found a few. 

I persuaded my companion to visit the spot 
again in late November, when the birds would 
be sure to be there, for food was abundant. 
This was an off year, and partridges were very 
scarce. We nearly gave up the trip, but we 
finally decided to try it. I shall never forget the 
IIO 




RUFFED GROUSE ONE WEEK OLD. 



AUTUMN HABITS. 

first point old Mack made that day. We were 
descending the last little gorge at the foot of 
the valley when the dog followed a shelf of rock 
until he came to the edge, and as he gathered to 
jump down he caught scent of partridges and 
stiffened on point. He had gone a trifle too far, 
however, and he tumbled over the edge, falling 
to the ground nearly flat on his back. But he 
held his point, to the consternation of my com- 
panion, who pronounced him dead or in a fit. I 
had seen Mack perform some pretty queer antics 
in the way of pointing, but this seemed a little 
beyond the limit. I went toward him, but as 
soon as I had a fair view I knew it was all 
right. I motioned my companion to a place of 
vantage, but before he had taken more than a 
dozen steps a score of partridges rose just be- 
yond him and he made a beautiful double, while 
I scored on the only one that came my way. 
The others went up the steep hillside with the 
exception of one that settled in a patch of alders 
beside the brook. 

We followed this bird, and when we gathered 
it in I made one of the most sensational shots 
that I was ever guilty of. When she rose I 
III 



MY FRIEND THE PARTRIDGE. 

dropped her into the brook with a broken wing. 
She did not swim much like a duck, but as- 
sisted by the current she made fair progress, 
coming toward me until not more than fifteen 
feet away, when she saw me, and changing her 
course paddled for the other shore which was 
so soft and muddy that I, fearing her plumage 
would become soiled, shot her head off. When 
she toppled over we discovered that I had killed 
a partridge and a i^ pound trout at one shot. 
Birds were very plentiful in the valley that 
day. I have no doubt that we flushed more than 
a hundred. We took our lunch near the head 
of the valley, seated upon a large flat stone, near 
the junction of two little rills that came down 
the steep hillsides. I well knew my companion 
was an ardent lover of nature, a jolly good fel- 
low as well as a good shot, but I did not know 
until now that he was a poet, and was a bit sur- 
prised when in response to a remark I made 
about the gentle swaying of the tall birches over 
head, he gave me this: 

"There's music in the whispering breeze, 
And in the rippling rill, 
When trees are saying things to trees. 
And rill trills sweet to rill." 

112 



CHAPTER XVL 
STRANGE SHOTS. 

I HAVE made and witnessed many queer shots. 
Upon several occasions I have gathered in birds 
that were never touched by a shot. I was once 
shooting with the late Ethan Allen when I 
flushed a partridge that flew directly toward him. 
As he was no^ more than fifty yards away I 
could not shoot, and a second later another bird 
flushed wild, and as she would give him a fair 
chance I remained quiet and watched the pro- 
ceeding. When he fired at the second bird, the 
first one was nearly over his head. At the re- 
port of the gun, it dodged and blundered into 
the top of a birch and came into the jaws of his 
dog. He took it and wrung its neck, supposing 
that I had wounded it, and it was not until I 
showed him that my gun was still loaded that he 
would believe I had not shot it. 
113 



MY FRIEND THE PARTRIDGE. 

Perhaps the most remarkable shot of this nature 
that ever came to me was while working up a 
run through a strip of woods, when I heard a bird 
rise some distance to my right. When looking 
in that direction I saw it coming my way. When 
it was nearly overhead, I fired. To my intense 
wonder, two came fluttering down. One of them, 
however, at once took wing, but I brought it 
down with the second barrel. Then came per- 
plexity and doubt. I well knew that one of them 
had been sitting in the treetop, and that the other 
had blundered into the branches of the tree and 
came down, but which one? Had I been unwit- 
tingly guilty of the grievous sin of potting the 
innocent bird perched on the limb, or had I 
really made a beautiful shot at the ghost over- 
head as well as scoring the easy one? 

In vain I pondered over the tangle. I could 
come to no satisfactory conclusion, until finally 
the cheering thought came to me that the noise 
of the impact of the bird upon the body of the 
tree that I had plainly heard could only have 
been made by the phantom, while the bird so 
quietly sitting upon the limb, confused by the 
uproar, had blundered into the branches and thus 
114 



STRANGE SHOTS. 

came down to add one more pleasing memory 
for me to store against time of need. 

I was once standing on guard at the edge of 
a run that wound along the foot of a steep hill- 
side, when my companion, who was working to- 
ward me, flushed a bird that came down the run 
at lightning speed. I missed clean; there was 
no excuse. Just then a bird came fluttering down 
the hillside. As I listened to its death flutter 
I realized that I had potted it on the ground and 
so bad did I feel over the unsportsmanlike deed 
that I said nothing to my companion, who soon 
joined me. His pride for the wonderful shot 
and evident enjoyment sealed my lips, for I had 
not the heart to hurt his feelings by dispelling 
the illusion. 

In sections of country where the partridge is 
frequently disturbed by the hunter, it is often 
the case that they will take flight while you are 
two or three gun shots away. No matter how 
staunch your dog, or how nicely he has done 
his point and has them sure, this practice will 
often bring to naught one's fondest hopes; for 
at the first sound indicating one's presence, the 
intended victim is away. In much of this rough 
IIS 



MY FRIEND THE PARTRIDGE. 

country it is nearly useless to try to follow; but, 
given a fair country, the proper thing to do is 
to mark well the direction of the bird and try 
for it again. 

For many years it has been a hard and fast^ 
rule with me to shoot at every bird that rises, 
even when a long distance away. I have a well 
grounded belief that the whistle of the shot in 
their vicinity exercises an influence that causes 
them to lie better when one again finds them. 
If one can succeed in keeping on their course, and 
routing them a few times, he will, in nearly every 
instance, meet the reward of perseverance by 
obtaining a satisfactory rise. 

Pleasant memories of many events of this 
nature often come to me to cheer my lonely 
hours, and I again am threading the mazy aisles 
of some old-time favorite cover. Again I view 
with pride the scene where by patient perse- 
verance I outwitted the sly maneuvers of the wise 
old patriarch. Again my cup of joy is full, and 
gone are worldly cares. My wild shooting, as 
one of my companions termed it, has also brought 
me more than a hundred fold for the price of 
the ammunition expended. I have in this man- 
ii6 



STRANGE SHOTS. 

ner made quite a number of wonderful shots that 
I recall with supreme satisfaction. 

Perhaps the most remarkable of these is one 
that I made at a bird that had risen wild several 
times. Its finish came at last; for when it again 
rose from a clump of alders, a long distance 
away, I held some two feet above it and fired, 
when she tumbled to the ground stone dead. 
When we picked it up, its head was entirely miss- 
ing, for the shot had bunched and cut it oflF as 
clean as could have been done with an axe. 

I was once shooting with a friend who was 
noted for taking long chances ; in fact, he usually 
shot at anything in sight. Occasionally, he 
brought one down from a long distance, greatly 
to his delight; for he dearly loved to boast about 
the shooting qualities of his gun, which he be- 
lieved to be just a little ahead of any gun ever 
made. 

We came out of a cover to a pasture that ex- 
tended quite a distance, to a heavy growth of 
timber. A bird rose a long distance ahead, and 
started for the woods, when I let go at her and 
she came down like a stone. As this was a 
good bit further than my long distance friend 
117 



MY FRIEND THE PARTRIDGE. 

dared to boast, I was interested to see how he 
would take it ; but the performance did not startle 
him a particle. He simply turned to me with a 
supercilious smile, and in a pompous manner re- 
marked, "If you had my gun, you could have 
waited until she had got to the edge of ths 
woods." 

I once bagged a bird that I put safely in my 
pocket, and a good half hour later, just as I had 
emptied both barrels, this bird burst out from 
my pocket, and with phenomenal speed betook 
herself to parts unknown. I never saw her 
again, although I carefully searched for her for 
more than two hours. 

I was once shooting with a friend who took 
along a young dog that had never been out. We 
had been in the cover but a short time, when a 
partridge flushed near us and my companion 
brought it down. Then, standing his gun against 
a tree, he took the puppy to the bird to see how 
he would perform. The dog behaved very nicely 
and pointed it in good style. After petting and 
praising him awhile, my companion went for the 
bird, but as he stooped to pick it up, the "dead 
bird" rose like a rocket and disappeared in the 
ii8 



STRANGE SHOTS. 

forest. I will not repeat the language of my 
companion, nor do I feel competent to give any- 
thing like a truthful description of the very ex- 
pressive workings of his countenance. 

I was once standing at the edge of a dense 
thicket of tall pines awaiting my companion, who 
was some distance below, when I heard a bird 
rise and saw it coming directly toward me well 
up in the air. Now, one of the most necessary 
attributes of the successful sportsman is a rapid 
thinking capacity. As I had had considerable 
experience in such cases, and well knew that if 
I should try to bring this bird down in the ortho- 
dox manner by letting it pass and then trying 
for it, it would be safe among the pines before 
it was fifteen feet beyond me. So, instinctively 
I fired when it was about twenty yards distant 
and doubled it up, but as the grouse tumbled I 
saw that it was coming straight for me. I tried 
to dodge, but there was a dense bunch of bushes 
that would not admit of my moving, and tangled 
me up and held me fast until the bird, with a 
force that until that moment I would not have 
believed possible, struck me on the hip and com- 
pletely knocked me out. It was several days 
119 



MY FRIEND THE PARTRIDGE. 

before I recovered from my lameness sufficiently 
to again take the field. 

There was one old cock grouse that lived in 
an alder run adjoining a large tract of timber. 
He had always been too smart for us, although 
on several occasions we had cornered him where 
he could not get away; but every time something 
went wrong for us, and right for the bird, as 
he always came off from the encounter with fly- 
ing colors. We usually worked the run from the 
timber up, for nearly all the birds found there 
would fly that way. But this old fellow would 
go in any direction so that it was away from 
us, and he would take such long flights and make 
such curves that we had given up looking for 
him after he had once started. 

While shooting one day in this vicinity in com- 
pany with the late Prof. Colburn, we struck the 
run at the upper end. As the wind was in the 
right direction, we worked it down toward the 
timber. We had gone but a short distance when 
old Mack came to a point some distance ahead 
of us, and I proposed to my companion that he 
make a detour and get in ahead of the bird, 
while I would wait the proper time and then go 

120 



STRANGE SHOTS. 

to the dog. In case the bird should prove to be 
our old friend, we would stand a chance to take 
a rise out of him. 

My companion took his departure, and after 
waiting until I thought him in position, I started 
for the dog; but had not gone more than half 
way to him when I heard the bird rise, and a 
few seconds later the report of my friend's gun. 
Soon he signalled for the dog. I started toward 
him and motioned for Mack to go, and as he 
understood the signal he was off at speed. When 
I joined Mr. Colburn he explained that he had 
winged the bird, that it had run too fast for 
him, and that Mack had gone on the trail. Just 
then he came back with the bird and upon ex- 
amination we found that both wings were shot 
off below the first joint from the body, and that 
otherwise the bird was unharmed. 

The only explanation of course is that the 
grouse was but a short distance away, and that 
the charge had not gone far enough to spread; 
and as he had held a bit too high it caught both 
wings when they were extended up. 

I have often shot off a wing or head or leg, 
but never saw anything just like this. The bird 

121 



MY FRIEND THE PARTRIDGE. 

was one of the largest I have ever seen, and 
proved to be our wild friend; at least, we have 
never since found one in that vicinity that has 
caused us to believe to the contrary. 



122 



CHAPTER XVII. 
HUMOROUS INCIDENTS. 

Whenever I recall this it brings to mind an 
anecdote that Mr. Colburn related to me at that 
time. Two friends were out with him shooting, 
one of whom had not had much experience. As 
they were walking along a cart path in the woods 
Mr. Colburn saw a grouse standing in the path. 
Pointing out the bird to his inexperienced friend 
he bade him shoot it. 

This was the opportunity of his life. Stepping 
two or three paces in front he tightened his grasp 
on the gun, and bringing it to his shoulder he 
turned his head around toward his companions, 
and with beaming countenance exclaimed, "Boys, 
this is the first partridge that ever I shot, and 

when we get back to town it's my by George, 

he's gone!" It is perhaps needless to add that 

when they got back to town it was his . 

123 



MY FRIEND THE PARTRIDGE. 

The flight of the partridge when it gets fairly 
going as a rule is in a straight line, but we once 
started one that flew in a half circle of about ten 
rods in diameter. My companion missed it the 
first rise, but brought it down on the next 
trial, when we found that its right wing had at 
some time been broken midway between the body 
and first joint, and that the ends of the broken 
bone had slipped by each other an inch and one- 
half, thus shortening her wing. The bones had 
grown firmly together in this position, enabling 
her to fly fairly well, but only in a circle. I have 
occasionally found wing-broken partridges, but 
with this exception all the fractures appeared to 
be of recent occurrence. 

The wing-broken partridge is often an adept 
in hiding from its pursuers. It will occasionally 
escape the most rigid search by crawling into a 
crevice among the rocks of any convenient hole, 
where it will remain for a long time, sometimes 
until the next morning. For I recall two instances 
where this was the case, as was proven beyond 
doubt. When I lost a wounded bird in this man- 
ner I made it a point to visit the locahty within 
a few hours, or if it was late in the dav I 
124 



HUMOROUS INCIDENTS. 

was usually there early the next morning, and 
in most cases succeeded in finding the bird. 

I had one experience with a winged bird that 
gave me quite a time and very nearly threw my 
little brother into fits. As the incident comes 
back to me I again hear his merry shouts of 
laughter echoing through the woods. 

There was an abnormal streak of fun in the 
makeup of this boy that endeared him to every 
one who knew him, for there was always some- 
thing doing in his vicinity. I had winged a bird 
that fell near a large log. There was a hole in 
the log that for quite a distance I could see the 
bird, and standing my gun against the log I got 
down on all fours and reached into the hole for 
it, but it evaded my grasp by crawling further 
in. I then cut a stick four or five feet in length, 
leaving about four inches of a branch at the end 
for a hook. With full confidence in the result I 
resumed my recumbent position and pushed the 
stick into the hole, intending to pass the hook 
beyond her and yank her out. The grouse 
avoided the hook and the more I tried the 
further it crawled in until I could not reach her. 
I was about to go for a longer stick when 1 

125 



MY FRIEND THE PARTRIDGE. 

heard a very lively ruction at the far end of the 
log. Before I realized what was up, the partridge 
hopped out of the hole like a cork out of a bottle, 
and notwithstanding that I put up my very best 
grab I missed her clean. It was then that the 
unexpected happened, for while I was flat on 
the ground and entirely helpless an evil-minded 
rabbit, following close behind the bird, came out 
of that hole and struck me squarely in the face; 
then turning a somersault he gathered himself 
together and with the most phenomenal speed 
took his departure for more congenial scenes. 
I was just a bit riled, and springing to my 
feet, I grabbed the gun and cut loose at the 
streak, but missed him with both barrels. Then 
I sat down on the log and gave my undivided 
attention to the vaudeville that boy was perform- 
ing. Soon my slightly ruffled plumage was in its 
normal condition. I even began to believe that 
we had had lots of fun, but his statement that 
the rabbit had done nothing more than could 
have been expected under the circumstances, and 
that the somersault — there were two of them 
when we arrived home — belonged to me, led me 
to doubt his entire truthfulness. 
126 



HUMOROUS INCIDENTS. 

This boy accompanied me one day to assist in 
the capture of a grouse that had bothered me not 
a little by taking flight before I could get near 
enough for a shot. Its favorite resort was an 
alder run, between some heavy timber and an 
impenetrable swamp to a hill. 

It always flew to a place where it was per- 
fectly safe, for it was impossible to follow. 

On this occasion I stationed the boy at the 
edge of the cover near the upper end with in- 
structions to wait there a certain time, until I 
had taken position at the lower end near the 
swamp, when he was to beat down the run to 
me. In fear that he would not await the proper 
time, I gave him my watch so that he should 
make no mistake. I then made a wide detour, 
and arrived at my chosen position, feeling sure 
that at last I had the best of this preternatually 
wise bird. I had been on guard but a short 
time, when I heard it rise some distance above, 
and with a firm grip on the gun and a feeling 
in my heart that this was to be the end, I turned 
and saw it going in the opposite direction; but 
this was not all, as I learned when I returned 
to the boy. He was in the thicket, diligently 
127 



MY FRIEND THE PARTRIDGE. 

searching for something, which I learned was 
my watch, that in the excitement of the moment 
he had hurled with all his force at the bird as 
it flew past him. Although we hunted long and 
faithfully for the lost time-piece, it was never 
found. 



128 



CHAPTER XVIII. 
SHOOTING COINCIDENCES. 

A CONGENIAL Companion adds greatly to the 
pleasure of a day afield. As memory harks back 
through the long vista of years I am profoundly 
grateful that I have been so singularly blessed 
in this respect. As I realize that these memories 
can never be wrested from me so long as life 
shall last, the coming days when the easy chair 
shall claim me for its own are shorn of their 
terrors, and deep down in my heart is unut- 
terable joy in the bright treasures so bountifully 
stored for time of need. 

The first congenial spirit that came to me was 
a very early friend of my shooting career. 
Charles was nearly my age, but I had three 
seasons the advantage of him so far as field 
sports were concerned. We became acquainted 
129 



MY FRIEND THE PARTRIDGE. 

in early summer and were soon firm friends. 
So well did I perform my part that he was nearly 
as anxious for opening day as myself. He 
proved to be an apt scholar, and, before the 
second season was over, he could shoot as well 
as I. 

He had acquired a wonderful knowledge of 
woodcraft so far as the hunting of the partridge 
was concerned. One of Charley's prominent 
characteristics was an insatiable desire to take 
a rise out of some one ; to make them believe 
that things were not what they seemed; to 
prophesy unexpected events that always hap- 
pened to him; to tell of wonderful dreams that 
always came true — all to the deep mystification 
of everyone and to the great delight of himself. 
I have a vivid recollection of a mutual attempt 
in this line that aflforded me unbounded satis- 
faction at the time. I never recall the incident 
that a large share of that feeling does not come 
back to me. 

We were after partridges, and hitching our 

team at the foot of a little hill we entered an 

alder run, and soon had a large covey going 

in every direction. Following the course that 

130 



SHOOTING COINCIDENCES 

most of them took, we came to an opening when 
Charley halted, and pointing to a patch of low 
sumac more than fifty yards from cover, assured 
me that every bit of cover like that was pretty 
sure to hold a partridge, and so apparently sin- 
cere were his words that I came very near think- 
ing that he really believed it. As I was always 
ready to investigate any statement made by him 
we went to the place. We flushed a bird which 
flew in his direction, and as he gathered it, his 
"I told you so; I never knew it to fail" was 
so sincere that almost every one would have 
been forced to believe that this was "honest 
injun"; but so deeply had I studied his idiosyn- 
cracies that I knew almost as well as he did 
that he had seen the bird alight there. I said 
nothing of this, however, and gave him lots of 
taffy about his great knowledge of the habits 
of the bird, until I felt satisfied that he was sure 
that there was one on me. 

Now, when anything of this nature is going 
I very much dislike to remain in debt for any 
length of time and — thanks to the inspiration of 
my guardian spirit — some of these things occas- 
ionally come my way. 

131 



MY FRIEND THE PARTRIDGE. 

When we returned to the wagon for lunch we 
seated ourselves by the side of the road, he upon 
a rock, while I took possession of a large stone 
that jutted from the wall some eight or ten feet 
above him. Not more than twenty feet beyond 
us was the mouth of a large culvert that crossed 
the road. When nearly through with our lunch 
I saw a partridge with stately step approach and 
fearlessly enter the opposite mouth of the cul- 
vert. Instinctively I reached for my gun, know- 
ing that she would soon appear at our end, but 
before I had my gun in hand the aforesaid guar- 
dian spirit inspired me to open my mouth, and 
in a surprised tone and manner I exclaimed, 
"How like a spot in New Hampshire where, 
when eating lunch, a partridge rose nearly at our 
feet." 

Just then the bird rose and flew up the road, 
and as I doubled it up I continued my narrative 
without a break — "and I laid her in the middle 
of the road." 

Putting my gun down I arose, and with every 
indication of surprise that the guardian forced 
upon me I exclaimed: "That is the most re- 
markable coincidence that ever came to me." 
132 



SHOOTING COINCIDENCES 

A furtive glance at my companion convinced 
me that the partridge in the clump of sumac had 
been paid for, with lots to spare, for a more 
surprised looking individual I never saw. With 
eyes and mouth wide open he stood there, the 
color faded from his cheeks, and actually tremb- 
ling as he faintly ejaculated, "Good heavens!" 

When the dog brought the bird I hesitatingly 
reached for it, and then withdrew my hand as 
though I feared the thing was uncanny ; but finally 
I took it, and with trembling voice I exclaimed: 
"It is all right, Charley, and a truly partridge, 
and I don't believe there is anything supernatural 
about it." 

This little episode broke him all up for the 
remainder of the day, for I could plainly see 
that neither his mind nor gun was on the birds. 
When we returned to the wagon at night he 
picked up the bird and acknowledged that he still 
felt a bit creepy. 

The late Col. Isaac Arnold, of the ordnance 
department, was a most agreeable companion in 
the field, especially when we were after par- 
tridges. He dearly loved the pursuit of the 
gamy bird and was fairly well informed as to 
133 



MY FRIEND THE PARTRIDGE. 

many of the details that are so necessary to suc- 
cess, when difficulties arise and unforeseen and 
unexpected troubles come to the front. He was 
one of the few sportsmen it has been my good 
fortune to meet who fully agreed with me that 
the first bird found should be followed to the 
end. Of course the wind up is not always a 
feather in our cap, for our wise bird very often 
leaves us staring with wide open eyes at the 
steep impassable hillside, or the impenetrable 
swamp with nothing to cheer us but thoughts 
of what might have been had it only gone in 
some other direction. 

Among the many pleasant recollections of my 
friend there is one day that often comes back 
to me with ever renewed pleasure. We drove 
in the morning to the home of a friend who 
lived right in the midst of some of my favorite 
covers, and hitching the horse at the shed, we 
started for the covers with the good wishes of 
our friends who gave us detailed directions to 
several points where we would be sure to find 
birds. 

Our first beat was through an old pasture that 
had been long neglected and grown up to birches 
134 



SHOOTING COINCIDENCES 

and alders, making an ideal place for birds. 
Working along one edge the dog swung to the 
right and struck a faint scent, but could not 
make it out. I started toward him while my 
companion continued along the edge. I had gone 
but a short distance when I heard the roar of 
rising birds and his cheery cry of "Mark !" I 
soon saw four partridges flying toward the lower 
end of the cover which was grown up to tall 
birches and maples with an occasional low grow- 
ing bushy pine. When we came to the place the 
dog suddenly stopped on point within ten feet 
of one of these pines. 

Motioning the colonel to go to an opening I 
forced a rise, giving him a fair shot. I could 
see the bird was hard hit, but it kept on, and 
as soon as he could untangle himself the colonel 
gave it the other barrel. The bird was too far 
away. When it had gone about a hundred yards 
it started nearly straight up in the air, and when 
three or four hundred feet high, it doubled up 
and came down, striking the ground with a thud. 
My companion remarked that it made as much 
noise as he did when he fell out of the chestnut 
tree. After a long search we found the bird 
135 



MY FRIEND THE PARTRIDGE. 

more than a hundred yards beyond where we 
expected to. 

When we turned back to the small pines a bird 
rose quite a distance away, but I brought it 
down with a shot that was most satisfactory to 
me. A short time after my companion scored a 
bird that I had to literally kick from almost 
under the nose of the dog. The other bird rose 
out of shot and flew to a patch of alders. We 
marked down near the edge. When we arrived 
there, the colonel took position between the patch 
of alders and a dense swamp, while I went in- 
side with the dog to find the bird. 

The dog soon had her fast, and I put her up, 
when I had a fair shot and ingloriously missed. 
As it turned in the right direction I felt secure; 
for the colonel was a good shot, but somehow 
he failed to connect. When I came to him and 
told him that I was heartily ashamed of this 
performance he dryly remarked, "So am I, for 
I had nearly as good a chance as you did, and 
should have stopped her." 

The bird flew through a long strip of open 
woods toward a dense thicket at the far end, and 
we at once went after her. When we had nearly 
136 



SHOOTING COINCIDENCES 

reached the edge of the timber the dog came to 
a point near a large stone heap, but it was in 
vain that we kicked every little bunch of brush 
in the vicinity, there was nothing in it, and 
concluding that the bird had taken flight, I went 
to the dog, and with my knee pushed him on a 
step or two when, with one foot on the heap of 
stones and his head turned toward it, he held 
his point and I knew that the bird was in there. 
Telling my companion to get ready I began to 
remove the stones. In a moment the bird came 
out with a rush, passing within two feet of his 
head, but he was ready and brought her down 
in fine style. 



137 



CHAPTER XIX. 
A CAT AND A WOODCOCK. 

The remainder of the day passed without note- 
worthy incident until it was nearly sunset, when 
we came near the house with two more beauties 
added to our score. Between us and the house 
was an alder thicket that often held a woodcock, 
and as the dog entered the cover he found one. 
I motioned my companion to go for it. When 
the bird rose it went toward the house, and the 
colonel dropped it neatly just outside the cover; 
but as soon as it struck the ground the big yel- 
low cat that belonged to the house grabbed it, 
and at her best pace made a bee-line for the 
house. Now, our hostess had told me that this 
cat had upon two occasions brought live wood- 
cock home, so I had no fear that we would lose 
our bird, and when the colonel broke cover and 
138 



A CAT AND A WOODCOCK. 

asked if he had killed the bird I told him that 
he had hit it hard and the last I saw of it it was 
not a foot from the ground just over a knoll 
near the house, and that we would probably find 
it in the dooryard, adding that a man who could 
shoot so as to drop his game in the wagon lo 
save the trouble of carrying it was very near 
the limit. 

When we turned the corner of the shed I saw 
the bird on the wagon seat and our hostess in 
the door about to explain; but I shook my head 
and made a slight motion with my hand, when 
she disappeared, for she knew from previous ex- 
perience that something was doing. Just then 
the colonel caught sight of the bird and made 
an exclamation that caused me to turn, when I 
also saw it. Then in as awed a tone as I could 
command I exclaimed, "This is the most won- 
derful happening that I ever saw." 

The colonel said not a word, and we drove 
home talking upon various subjects with never 
a hint from him until he left me at my door, 
when with a merry twinkle of his eye, he dryly 
said: 

"When you get good and ready I would like 
139 



MY FRIEND THE PARTRIDGE. 

to have you explain that woodcock happening." 
The clearing of the mystery appeared to please 
him immensely, but somehow I got it into my 
head that he did not care to have the boys get 
hold of it, and my opinion was confirmed by 
his silence upon the subject. 

I was out one day with a farmer friend who 
often accompanied me, appearing to fully enjoy 
the sport, but I had not been able to make him 
take his gun along as he had never shot at a 
flying bird and knew that he could not do it. 
This day he saw a partridge perched upon the 
top of a stone wall and then he wanted the old 
gun. This was my opportunity. I improved it 
to the extent of obtaining a promise that he 
would clean up the old fusee and take it along 
in case another such chance should offer. When 
we returned to the house for dinner the first 
move he made was to take the old gun from the 
hooks over the fireplace and swab it out; then 
loading it with a light charge of powder he fired 
it off and pronounced it in good working order. 
Then at his request I loaded it for partridges, 
and after dinner we again took to the woods. 
It was with no small amount of amusement 
140 



A CAT AND A WOODCOCK. 

that I watched his performance as we went to- 
ward the cover, for he was evidently trying to 
get into gear by practicing all the maneuvers he 
thought necessary to success when the supreme 
moment should come, for as I rightly conjec- 
tured he had fully decided to try a bird flying. 
The manner in which he manipulated that old 
relic of by-gone times was a revelation to me, 
although I had had a large and varied experi- 
ence in this line— his tactics went beyond any- 
thing I had ever witnessed. His first effort was 
in the right direction, for he attempted to bring 
the gun to his shoulder in proper position as 
quickly as possible. After some little practice 
he was apparently satisfied with the result, for 
he stepped up to a bush and gave it a vigorous 
kick, and as the imaginary bird rose, he braced 
himself and swinging the old gun into position 
he shut both eyes and made believe pull. He 
did not appear to be satisfied, for he shook his 
head in a deprecatory manner, when I remarked 
that he had pulled too quick. "Yes," said he, 
"and I shot four feet over her." 

After he had made a few more trials he ap- 
peared to be getting on to them, for a satisfac- 
141 



MY FRIEND THE PARTRIDGE. 

tory look came over his countenance as he re- 
marked that he was "kinder getting used to it," 
and we started for the cover. We had not gone 
far, when a bird flushed wild and I marked it 
down in a little thicket near the edge of the 
woods where the dog soon found it. Taking 
position on a little knoll that covered the line 
the bird would take, I bade my companion go 
around the thicket and then go in and put the 
bird up and "smash her," which was his favorite 
expression to me under like circumstances. 

Now, my friend was rather a small wiry in- 
dividual with nothing Apollo-like or striking 
in his usual appearance, but you should have 
seen him there as with head well up, shoulders 
drawn back, with the stride and bearing of an 
athlete, he marched to the fray. I could plainly 
see that he had a good grip on the old gun, but 
I did not quite like the way it wobbled, and I 
gave my undivided attention to the performance, 
for I was deeply interested. Although I had 
mentally wound up the matter in three or four 
different ways, I still had lingering doubts as to 
the sequel. 

I had not long to wait, for he was soon at 
142 



A CAT AND A WOODCOCK. 

the far side, and as he entered the thicket, the 
bird rose to one side and partly behind him, when 
he whirled around, and as the bird was passing 
within ten feet of his head he fired, and although 
he never touched a feather he scared the wits 
out of the grouse and it blundered into a dense 
low-growing apple tree and came to the ground. 

With a gladsome shout he exclaimed, "I've got 
him !" and threw his gun more than twenty feet 
and made a dive for his victim, which he grab- 
bed, but before he had straightened up that "dead 
bird" came to life again, and worse than that it 
got away with the loss of a little plumage and 
came straight for me, flying within six feet of 
my legs. 

Now, it is my pride and boast that I am always 
keyed up and ready to shoot, but I am forced to 
confess that time I scored a lost opportunity, for 
I did not realize that a bird was in the air nor 
that I had anything like a gun in my hands. I 
was rolling on the ground almost in a fit until 
the thought came to me that I would surely 
burst a blood vessel, when I partly straightened 
up just as my companion broke cover with the 
most indescribable look upon his countenance 
143 



MY FRIEND THE PARTRIDGE. 

that I ever beheld. As he glanced at me and 
then at the three tail feathers— that he still 
grasped in his hands — I was again rolling on the 
ground. 

After quite a search the old gun was found 
standing straight up with the muzzle sticking 
in the soft ground. 



144 



CHAPTER XX. 

LOST OPPORTUNITIES. 

I ONCE scored a lost opportunity that afforded 
my two companions lots of fmi, although I must 
confess that I did not more than half like it. 
There was a large rock just ahead of me that 
was ten or twelve feet square, nearly six feet 
in height, and flat on top. When we came to 
it I passed on one side and my companions on 
the other. I had nearly reached the end, and 
as I crowded against the rock to avoid a scrub 
bush that was in my path, a partridge rose from 
the edge of the rock within a foot of my head, 
and with a roar brushed my hat with her wings. 
Although there was scarcely a tree or bush in 
the way I never saw her except the fleeting 
glimpse that I caught as she rose from the rock, 
for I turned in the wrong direction and I have 
145 



MY FRIEND THE PARTRIDGE. 

no doubt that the peculiar circumstances of the 
case rattled me just a bit. My companions in- 
sisted that I had turned completely around at 
least four times, as was clearly demonstrated by 
the muzzle of my gun at an angle of forty-five 
degrees, describing just that number of erratic 
circles, for this was all the proof they had as 
they could not see me, the rock being between us. 

My companions appeared to enjoy this very 
much, and chaffed me unmercifully. Of course 
I joined in their mirth, although for the life of 
me I could not see much to laugh at. That 
evening, when I jotted down in my note book 
"another lost opportunity," I again firmly re- 
solved that this should be the last one. 

A few pages further on, however, I find there 
is mention of another lost opportunity, but a 
calm reconsideration of the matter assures me 
that this is a misnomer. 

I had flushed a partridge in front of the dog, 
and it had dodged behind a tree. As I side 
stepped to beat the move, a woodcock rose at 
my feet and flew between my arm and the gun. 
My companion very nearly had a fit; even the 
dog laughed at the performance and plainly 
146 



LOST OPPORTUNITIES. 

showed that he enjoyed it. I still have a hazy 
recollection that I must have done something 
abnormal to have aroused both man and dog, 
but I cannot remember the particulars well 
enough to give an intelligent description of the 
affair. I feel, however, that instead of jotting 
down in my note book another "lost opportunity" 
I should simply have recorded a miss with both 
barrels. 

It was indeed a true sportsman who said, "It 
is not all of shooting to shoot," for amid the 
thronging memories of bygone days, when sport 
galore was sure, it is often the case that the 
big bag secured is dwarfed almost to insignifi- 
cance by some unexpected occurrence that will 
ever remain a source of pleasure. Even the mis- 
hap that caused pain and wounded my pride, 
when pain and chagrin have taken flight, is often 
remembered with something very near akin to 
pleasure. This at least is the case with me, for 
when in pursuit of the partridge I have always 
tried to round up the many haps and mishaps 
into a satisfactory and pleasing whole, and I am 
very pleased to say with almost perfect success. 

Any one who is a passably good shot can, 
147 



MY FRIEND THE PARTRIDGE. 

with practice and perseverance, become fairly 
successful in the pursuit of the royal rufifed 
grouse, but to him who understands the whisper- 
ing of the lofty pines and can interpret what the 
ragged rocks are ever saying, whose soul is 
tuned in harmony with the melody of the laugh- 
ing waters and whose heart is filled with love 
for all that makes this beautiful world so bright, 
skill with the gun is of minor importance and 
trifling mishaps are as naught. 



148 



jUN 4 1308 



